
LIFE 



IN THE LOBBY 



-i^ ooi^Er)-:z" 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



By DOISriSr PIATT 



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WASHIXGTON : 
•lUDD & DKTWEILER, PRINTERS. 



DRAMATIS PEK.SO.Nai:. 



Hon. Phineas Pilaster. — Christian Statesman. 

Hon. Montezuma Buggs. — Of Buggs' House, and House of Representa- 
tives. 

Hon. John Peppercorn. — Congressional casualty. 

Hon. Albert Rowe — Average Congressman. 

Col. Ralph Stackpole. — Chief of the Lobby, who knows all of Wash- 
ington and nothing of his wife. 

Mr. Edvtard Ba«c mb. — Head of Post Office Ring and infatuated with 
Marie Antoinette Louise Buggs. 

Tom Cutlett. — Confidential clerk of a first-class hotel, afterwards one 
of the Lobby. 

Benjamin GussETT. — Male half of a matrimonial alliance far from 
pleasant. 

Mrs. Dr. Gussett. — Addicted to bloomers and medicine. 

Pat Doolan. — Baggage smasher, afterwards reporter for New York 
Daily Libel. 

SciPio Africanus Diggs. — Waiter at Buggs'. house, afterwards Professor 
in Howard Institute. 

Mrs. Ralph Stackpole, ") Wife of Ralph Stackpole, who changes 
Mrs. Dora Jones. / from a plain country wife to an ornament of 

the Lobby. 

Marie Antoinette Louise Buggs. — Disposed to flii-t with all the male 
world. 

Servants, officers, Indian chiefs, little Treasury girls, and others. 



Scene, New York, afterwards Washington, 



LIFE IN THE LOBBY. 



Act 1st. 

Scene 1st. Entrance hall of Bugg's house— To right, private office, par- 
tially enclosed from hall but visible at end ; large window back, with 
balcony looking upon court — Entrance right and left — Elevator to be 
seen. 

T. CuUett at desk sticks a pen behind his ear and comes forward. 

T. CuTLETT. Well if the Hon. Montezuma Buggs, propri- 
etor of the Buggs-house and memher of Congress, to say 
nothing of heing the author of Marie Louisa Antoinette 
Buggs, thinks he can run tlie Buggs house and the House of 
Representatives at the same time he is an ass. I say that the 
paternal creator of the divine Marie Louisa Antoinette Buggs 
is an ass. 1 speak advisedly, wlien I utter this unparliamentary 
language — Buggs is an ass. He is called Old Ability because 
of the stoutness of his legs, and the solemnity of his counte- 
nance. But the man who undertakes the impossible, with 
his eyes open, is an idiot or a lunatic. Buggs undertakes the 
impossible. He would attempt to run two houses and I can 
explain it upon no other hypothesis than the one I have in- 
dicated. He is of that species of horse, which nature, through 
some eccentricity attached to a preposterous pair of ears, and 
a cow's tail. But for me, his confidential clerk and cashier, 
this concern would have g(me to pot long since. I propose 
now to propose to the divine Marie Louisa Antoinette Buggs, 
but whether old Buggs, who is idiot enough to go to Congress, 
will recognize the merits of T. Cutlett, Esq., is yet to be seen. 
I have touched the heart of the tender Bugg, but whether I 
have touched the pocket of the paternal B. is further along — 
ah 1 here 's the evening train. 

{Retires to his desk ivithin office. Enter Scip and other 
ivaiters, fJloiued hy a croiod of passengers. The last named 
croiud about the desk registering names. Pat Doolan enters 
loith luggage, lohich is deposited ivifh great violence in centre 
of stage, ail the widle Cutlett rings hand-hell and cries ''front'* 



as each traveled' registers his name and gets a key. Enter 
Peppercorn, Stackpole, Seiiator Pilaster escorting 3Irs. Stack- 
pole, ivho is deeply veiled. He crosses stage and exits with 
her. Stackpole stares at them.) 

Peppercorn. At wliat time does the 10:40 train, shore line, 
leave, sir? 

{Cutlett rings, looking vacantly over Peppercorn's head.) 

CuTLETT. The 10.40 leaves precisely at 10.40, unless 
through some casualty it leaves a little earlier, or a little 
later, or does not leave at all. 

Peppercorn. Ah ! that is very satisfactory. Now, young 
man, can you give me a comfortahle room on this floor, with 
windows on each side, and no draft? {Cutlett rings.) 

Stackpole. I say, you, T don't propose going from town 
to-night further than a mile and a half, and so object, you 
see, to the sixth story. (Cutlett rings.) 

(Enter 3Irs. Dr. Giissett in bloomers , followed by Benjamin 
loaded heavily with luggage. He attempts to relieve himself 
of some of it.) 

Mrs. Dr. G. Benjamin ! • 

Benj. Doctor. 

Mrs. Dr. G. Are you a man? 

Benj. Doctor ? 

Mrs. Dr. G. I say are you a man or not a man ? 

Benj. I helieve I am. You ought to know. 

Mrs. Dr. G. Then call in play the muscular abilit}^ with 
which nature endows the man animal, and don't dare let go 
any of those valuables. Now, follow me. (Exit.) 

Benj. I wisli I was a boss. A boss has a wagon. That 
superior being don't recognize the difference. That superior 
being works me like a boss^ and wants to know if I'm a 
man. 

Mrs. Dr. G. (within.) Benjamin ! 

Benj. Doctor. 

Mrs. Dr. G. (loithin.) Come along. 

Benj. Oh, Lord ! if I only was a boss. (Exit.) 

(Enter Bascomb in traveling costume.) 

Bascomb. Helow, Stackpole, glad to meet you. On your way 
to Washington for another campaign ? 



Stackpole. Yes, and yon ? 

Bascomb. Armed and equipped, eager for the fray, we have 
a superb Congress to operate on, old fellows with subsidies 
sticking to their legs like nuss to an old log, and some 
twenty going out forever. I say, Colonel, I met the loveliest 
girl as we entered. By Jove, she is magnificent. Just a 
little animated rose-bud. 

Stackpole. A passenger. 

Bascomb. No, indeed ; asked servant, and learned that she 
is the daughter of old Montezuma Buggs, M. C, and propri- 
etor of this hotel. I am going to brush up and make her 
acquaintance. 

Stackpole. Better let the crinoline alone, Ned. Take 
warning by me. 

Bascomb. That is the wisdom that must be learned through 
the old school of experience. Now for a bath, dinner, and 
the little Bugg. {Exit.) 

Scip., (brushing Mr. Pepper cor 71.) Ye'r berry welcome to 
de Buggs' House, sah — berry welcome indeed, sah. 

Peppercorn. Buggs' House — what affectation. This is 
what 1 call a tavern or inn — I call it tavern. 

Scip. Ye can jis call, sah, what you please. Dusa bah- 
room down stairs, and de more you call de better we likes it, 
sah. 

Peppercorn. And now I want some supper. 

Scip. Dinnah on the table, sah. 

Peppercorn. Dinner at this hour of the night. Well, 
show me the supper-room. {Scip boivs him to door. Pep. 
exits.) 

{Previous to this all the travelers have left save Stackpole, 
who has been examining the register and comes forward.) 

Stackpole. I can't stand this sort of thing any longer. 
Every traveler should register an oath on leaving home, be- 
fore a competent tribunal, to murder a conductor, ticket 
agent, or hotel clerk before he returns. Here's, this supercili- 
ous, insolent fellow, now swinging his empty head in the at- 
mosphere as if Divine Providence ought to be thankful that 
he consents to exist. {To Scip ivho attemps to brush him,) Oh 1 
get out. {Strikes him in the stomach, knoching Scip over the 
baggage. Scip gets up, squares himself and begins dancing 
around Stackpole in a boxing attitude,) 



SciP. Yah, yah, look 'y heah. 

T. CuTLETT. {Coming forward.) Stay, Scipio. When a 
robust individual of put^jilistic tendency indulges in the ex- 
centricity of tossing you among the baggage, respect for the 
house should restrain your wrath. Report tlie facts to the 
office and robust individual will find his luxury in the bill. 

{Retire Scipio.) 

Stackpole. I say, is not your name Cutlett? 

CuTLETT. {Looking at ceiling.) Well yes — I believe it is. 
That is mv coonomen. 

Stackpole. Well, Tom Cutlett, if you will lower your chin 
and bring your eyes down from where they have been gazing 
over my head into the dim distance, as if I were some insig- 
nificant nuisance_, and condescend to look at me, you will 
recognize an old friend. 

Cutlett. {SloivJy regarding him.) Why Col. Stackpole I 
How do you do. I am gratified in seeing you again. 

Stackpole. Ah ! You do recognize me at last. Your grat- 
ification has my thanks. But, I say Tom, the last time I 
saw you — you were a minister of the Gospel, preaching soft 
salvation to pretty little milliner girls, out of a white choker 
and a single-breasted frock. How did you come to be the 
top-loftical mahogany-high poster I find you here? 

Cutlett. Preaching proved not to be my vocation, Colonel, 
my piety fell short of my dignity. Eve, the first milliner 
proved the ruin of Adam, and an Eve of the needle brought 
the Rev. T. Cutlett to grief. The dear little lambs. 

Stackpole. Came to be lamb cutletts — eh, Tom. I take 
it however, your lack of piety and abundance of dignity are 
not in your way here. 

Cutlett. Not at all. A first-class hotel, Colonel, retains 
all the exclusive refinement that has come down to us from 
the feudal ages. Landlords and clerks are our only aristo- 
crats in this degenerate day of familiar republicanism. 

Stackpole. That is true ; and in the voice of an indignant 
people, an oppressed people, I cry down with them ! 

Cutlett. For such a position I have, I may say, a few 
natural qualifications. And when such qualifications look 
calmly at the admiring world from behind a cascade of im- 
macculate linen and a diamond pin, success waits on eflfort. 
I have seen genuine merit record its name with an air ; and 
by the time genuine merit secured a room, and had been 
marched by me from end to end of our vast dining-hall, 



genuine merit lost its identity and sunk into the number of 
its bed-chamber, to have respect paid it, just in proportion 
to its purse — and no more. 

Stackpole. Well, well, I know all that. But I say, Tom, 
I'm in a scrape, and I believe you can help me. 

CuTLETT. Anything in reason that I can do. Colonel. 

Stackpole. Yes, yes; of course. But you know that I am 
not happy in my domestic relations. 

CuTLETT. I have heard 

Stackpole. That Mrs. Colonel Stackpole was an unappre- 
ciated female, hid in the obscurity of a little village. Well, 
having no end of trouble with one woman, I naturally took 
up with two. A pretty California widow — an unprotected 
female. 

Cutlett. And between the great unappreciated and the 
pretty unprotected you came to grief. 

Stackpole. Precisely. And when the explosion occurred 
I fled ; I retreated in great disorder. With carpet-sack in 
hand, I cut across the fields, waited for and took the first 
train at daylight, and had scarcely secured a seat before a 
tall female, thickly vailed, sat down by me. And she stuck 
to me like a burr. I attempted to lift that vail. I tried her on 
newspaper, an accident ticket. The Bloody Avenger of the 
Spanish Main, and gum-drops, but without avail to lift that 
vail. She followed — no, she accompanied me heie. She is 
in the lady's parlor now. And, Tom, I don't know whether 
she is the unappreciated or the unprotected. She is one or 
the other. If its my charmer, I'll get drunk ; if its my wife, 
I'll commit suicide. By Jove, how hard a man works to 
make himself miserable. Now, Tom, you must find out. 

Cutlett. My dear Colonel, I am very sorry ; but the rules 
of onr house and the exigencies of public morality 

Stackpole. Rumti, tumpti, rumti, tumti, tum. Oh ! con- 
found it, Tom, don't put ofi'any of your old sermons on me. 
I see you throw me over. Well, I'll go to dinner, and when 
this matrimonial complication explodes I'll be prepared for 
consequences. {Palls his hat over his eyes and exits. As he 
does so he runs against Peppercorn, who enters.) Oh ! go to 
the devil. 

Peppercorn. Thank you, sir ; I believe I have no wish to 
go there. Rudest muscular individual I ever encounted. 
{To Cutlett.) Now, young man, I have had my indigestion, 
I would thank you for an answer to my request. 



CuTLETT. What was it you were pleased to request ? 

Peppercorn. Really, it has been so long since, I have for- 
gotten ; but I believe I asked for a room on this floor — with 
two windows on each side and without a draft. 

CuTLETT. Ah ! yes. 

Peppercorn. A room on this floor and without drafts. I 
don't want coughs, colds, catarrhs, and consumption driven 
in at every crack and paid for at the rate of five dollars a 
day, fires and doctors extra. / 

Cutlett. Scip, show this gentleman to No. 1, the bridal 
chamber, {aside) directly over the kitchen, and our venerable 
friend can cut himself into steak for breakfast, as by that 
time he'll be done brown. 

Peppercorn. Colored individual. 

Scip. Sah. 

Peppercorn. Do you see those boots ? 

Scip. Yes, sah. 

Peppercorn. There's a quarter. Don't you touch them. 

Scip. Never, sah. 

Peppercorn. And American citizen of African descent ? 

Scip. Yes, sah. 

Peppercorn. Do you see this coat ? 

Scip. I think I does, sah. 

Peppercorn. There's a quarter. Don't touch it. 

Scip. Not if I dies, sah. 

Peppercorn. And — 

Scip. Sah ! 

Peppercorn. Show me No. 1. 

Scip. This way, sah. {Aside.) De Lord, but its ray 
pinion freely expressed, dat dis old gentleman aint compus. 
No, sah, not compus. 

{Exit, shoiuing out Peppercorn.) — Enter Marie Louise 
Antoinette. 

Marie. Mr. Cutlett, have you seen papa? 
Cutlett. Divine Marie, I have not seen the p. b. 
Marie. And what do you mean by p. b.? 
Cutlett. To you it means the parent bird, to me the 
parent bull. 

Marie. How absurd. But really, have'nt you seen him ? 
Cutlett. My precious little rose-bud, my violet, ray cauli- 
flower, do you want me to see your papa? 



Marie. That is not what I mean. I ask you if papa has 
yet come in, Mr. Ciitlett? 

CuTLETT. Why Mister Cutlett? Why not Tom, or Cut- 
lett ; or, if you will, lamb cutlett? 

Marie. Don't talk nonsense. How do you like my new 
dress? Is'nt Madame de Thimballi a splendid fit? Only 
look at that train. 

Cutlett. It is superb ; it is magnificent ; it touches the 
sublime and borders on the immense. 

Marie. Mr. Cutlett, I believe you are saying something 
improper. 

Cutlett. You drive me to desperation. Why so frivol- 
ous? Why so cold ? 

Marie. Why, indeed, why ? Do you want me to betray our 
secret love in this public place ; have an infuriated father 
learn through servants of our hidden loves, when sucii knowl- 
edge will end in broken hearts and death. 

Cutlett. Ah ! I understand. At midnight in the garden, 
when the calm moon casts her radiance down upon the trick- 
ling fountain and its plaster Venus with a broken nose ; when 
flowers unseen drown the scent of burning meat, and the 
brass band on the balcony is louder than the hum of hungry 
mosquitoes, I clasp you in my arms and sigh, Marie; you 
whisper, Cutlett, and we are blest. 

Marie. Happy hours, will they come again ? ^ 

{They embrace.) — Enter Peppercorn in night cap, gown and 
slippers. 

Peppercorn. I say, do you call that a room. It's an oven. 
I am perspiring two gallons to the square inch. 

Cutlett. Retire, you indecent old man. 

Peppercorn. Ketire to be roasted — I won't do it. 

Cutlett. Retire, or I'll call in the police. 

Peppercorn. Young man, do you suppose that has any 
terrors for me? I can't l)e put in a worse })lace. 

Cutlett. Retire, sir. Don't you perceive the presence of 
refined female innocence. {Pushes him out.) 

Cutlett. Beautiful days when will they return, watched as 
we are? 

Marie. Let us fly ! oh, ray Cutlett, let us fly to the sunny 
isles of the ocean and be blessed ! 

Cutlett. You say, fly, divine Marie, ah ! would we could ; 



8 

but such flight calls for golden wiags. In those sunny isles 
shall we keep a Buggs house ? 

Marie. Ah ! I see it all. Mercenary wretch, you seek my 
fortune and not myself. Away ! I will entertain your false 
love no more. 

CuTLETT. Hear me dearest ! For myself I care naught. 
Besides the love that lifts me to a heaven of delight, this 
filthy lucre is as dross. But for you, divine Marie, reared in 
the lap of a first class hotel luxury, with your delicate anat- 
omy and refined tastes that revels in dreamy indolence on 
dime novels ; you, with your sweet face and flowing locks, 
gotten up regardless of expense, and all your own — to be 
reduced to hash and bread pudding of a cheap boarding 
house — perish the thought ! I would not cast a shadow on 
that sunny brow for all the heaven your love may bring. 
(Aside.) Hera, Bulwer. 

Marie. [Softly.) Cutlett ! 

CuTLETT. For I have known want my angel. I have had 
my exalted genius stifled by the smell of cooked cabbage and 
the lofty longings of my aspiring soul beaten to atoms in the 
mortar of adversity. But I love you, my love; hear me on 
my knees. 

{Enter Peppercorn, as before.) 

Peppercorn. They are grinding cofiTee. I have discovered 
the geographical position of No. 1. The subteranean regions 
of the kitchen burn below. 

Cutlett. Oh, get out. {Pushes him off.) Dear being, let 
me lay our suit at the feet of your hard-hearted parent. Let 
me plead with him as now I plead with you. {Kneels.) 

Marie. No, Thomas, we will fly. From the trout balcony, 
that opens from my boudouir, on some moonless night, when 
the winds howl and the thunder rolls, fearlessly I will descend 
the silken ladder to your loving arms and share your lowly 
lot whate'er that lot may be. 

Cutlett. Oh ! Maria Louisa Antoinette. 

{Enter Pat.) 

Pat. Howly mither ! an her's the dark a coortin the little 
June Buji-y:. 

{Cutlett rises in some confusion, ivhile Marie exits with a 
scream.) 



9 

CuTLETT. You infernal rascal. 

Pat. Aisy, Misther Cutlett ! Aisy now! Let me brush 
yer knees or ould Buggs, who is just beyant wid a Hon. 
Phinias Pilaster will think yer been at yer devotions. 
{Brushes Cutlett.) Yis want to marry the little Bugg, 
Misther Cutlett. All right, just up and spake boldly to the 
ould humbug. Nivir fear, spake yer mind fraly. It's a 
club I have convanient that'll bring him to rason. Now 
yees spake out. 

Cutlett. {Aside.) Shall I take this ignorant Hibernian 
to my confidence or not. If I do it will cost me divers sums 
from my monthly stipend. If 1 do not he'll betray us. I 
had better. I'll promise him a hundred dollars and ])ay him 
fifty cents on account. Well Pat. what do you think of it? 

Pat, {assuming a ihourjlitful attitude.) Now, Misther Cut- 
lett, whin you ask me to think ye's puts me in a position that 
requires consideration. An' yes want to marry the little 

Cutlett. Most assuredly I do. 

Pat. An' the little Bugg wants to marry you ? 

Cutlett. The latest information on that subject informs 
me that she does. 

Pat. Well, Misther Cutlett, as this is a fra country, in- 
cluding the nager, why in the divil don't ye marry? 

Cutlett. We lequire the consent of the paternal Bugg. 

Pat. Och, murther, an' is it tliat what kaping yes apart. 
I'll tell ye what, ye marry first an' git the consint afther. 

Cutlett. Patrick, it won't work. I have observed that 
fathers are pelicans before marriage, willing to feed their ten- 
der young from their paternal breast, and buzzards i-eady to 
liustle them out of their nest immediately after. 

Pat. Thru for you, sur. A father-in-law is a buzzard, an' 
a mother-in-law is two buzzards. But hold asy, I say ; 
I've a club convanient that'll make the old Buggs come to 
terms. He's a candidate for Congiess agin, an' I know his 
wakeness. Kape ye'r eye on me an' spake out bowldly to 
old Buggs, de ye mind ? 

[Enter Hon. Montezuma Buggs and Senator Phineas Pilas- 
ter. Cutlett retires to his desk, and Pat seats himself on the 
luggage.) 

Buggs. You are welcome, Senator, to my humble abode^ 
2 



10 

I trust you will find your much-needed rest before lesuming 
your arduous duties in the Senate, 

Pilaster. I thank you, Mr. Buggs, for your Cliristian 
welcome. I do indeed need it after twenty years' service of 
m}'^ country. I long for the hour, my friend, when I can re- 
tire from the labors of the Christian statesman that so op- 
press and weary me. 

Buggs. We do, indeed, need repose. The cares and re- 
sponsibilities of the high duties thrust upon us make the 
sweet domesticity of private life so precious. 

Pat. {Aside.) The ould hypocrit, an' he's workin like a 
mule for a renomination. 

Pilaster. We must not look to find that rest this side the 
grave, I fear, my dear sir. We have done the Christian 
work of lifting the African from servitude to citizenship ; 
but the Indian yet aj)peals to us lor aid. 

CuTLETT, (Aside.) Having skinned the colored person, they 
contemplate Mr. Lo's scalping. 

Buggs. It is really a miracle the Christian work v^^e have 
accomplished for tlie downtrodden and oppressed African. 
The Howard Institute alone is a monument of the Lord's 
mercy and our endeavor — wherein are taught plain sewing 
and the Christian religion. 

Pilaster. But look at the Freedman's Bank. 

Buggs. The collected savings of four millions of laborers. 

Pilaster. Eight millions safely invested — two dollars to 
each oppressed African. 

Cutlett. (Aside.) Loaned to Pilaster, Buggs & Co. to be 
repaid on the day of judgment. 

Buggs. I hope we may be as successful with our Indian 
brethren. 

Pilaster. Doubtless. The Lord will not leave so wide a 
field uncared for. Evidence is given in this of our discovery 
of the Omahogs, an unknown tribe hidden away in the 
heart of a continent by the Almight}" that they may be plas- 
tic material in the hands of the Christian reformer. 

Buggs. How interesting, and how curious. ISimple chil- 
dren of the wilds — save a taste for roasted missionary, they 
are as yet untouched by the vice of a godless civilization. 

Pilaster. Should we succeed in getting our appropriation 
of three millions through, we will make of the Omahogs pro- 
pagandists of the faith to all Indian tribes. 



11 

BuGGS. It is intended, I believe, to devote one million to 
cooking stoves for the tribe. 

Pilaster. Yes, our most Cliristian Secretary of the Inte- 
rior, who is known to the Ornahogs, as "Our Little Father," 
to distinguish liim from our Christian President "The Great 
Father," thinks if the Ornahogs could once have a taste of 
Christian cooking, they would forego their cannibal proclivi- 
ties for roasted missionary. 

BuGGS. A most original and ingenious idea. I see by the 
latest report of brother Leatherlungs, that he succeeded in 
baptizing tliree luindi-ed at one time. 

Pilaster. A most edifying event. Tliere were three hun- 
dred warriors painted and equipped for the war path. Under 
the persuasive eh^quence of brother Leatherlungs and a for- 
mal distribution of beef, bibles and bhinkets 



CuTLETT. {Aside.) To say notliing of wiiisky 

Pilaster. They went in and the water washing off the war 
paint they sang old hundred a little out of tune, but with 
the earnest sim[)licity of children. 

BuGGS. Wonderful, Senator Pilaster, wonderful! The 
Lord is surely witii us. 

Pilaster. By the bye, I see that the Hon. Job Peppercorn, 
lately elected to Congress is an inmateof your excellent hotel. 
As the Speaker has designated him as chairman of the Com- 
mittee on Indian Affairs, it would be well to cultivate him. 

BuGGS. Is that so, Mr. Cuttett? 

Cutlett. (Aside.) Yes, sir, he is perspiring this moment 
at the rate of forty pints to the square inch in No. 1. 

BuGGS. He shall be cared for. 

Pilaster. As I must take the midnight train, so as to be 
early at my duties in Washington, I will retire to my 
apartment and pray and wrestle with the spirit until the 
hour of departing. And brother Buggs, if you would have 
a portion of that mast pig to strengthen my inner man and 
my flask refilled with some of your choice old Bourbon to be 
used in case of illness, I shall be greatly obliged. 

BuGGS. Certainly. Mr. Cutlett, show Senator Pilaster to 
his room. 

Cutlett. Front. 

SciP. Here, sah, 

Cutlett. Conduct the Christian Statesman to the elevator, 

and elevate him to 42. 

Pilaster. May the Lord bless this dwelling. 



12 

Pat. Amin. {Exit Senator Pilaster.) 

BuGGS. Ah, Mr. Cutlett, I am glad to see you so attentive 
to the interests of this honse. Y(H1 have great executive abil- 
ities, Mr. Cutlett. I am happy to observe, sir, that you have 
high executive abilities. 

Cutlett. I am delighted that my efforts in behalf of the 
house meet with your approbation. 

BuGGS. 1 have no hesitation, sir, in saying that your deep 
interest, ri[)e intelligence, and executive abilities fit you for 
a highei- position. I have thought, that as my constituents 
insist upon my continuing in Congress, much to my private 
embarrassment and injury, tliat it would be well you should 
have an interest in the Buggs' house. I have that in con- 
templation, sir. 

Cutlett. You'll excuse me, Mr. Buggs, but I have had 
that same under advisement. 

Buggs. It pleases me to know that our thoughts run in the 
same diiection, sir. Now, what do you say to a fiftli interest? 

Cutlett. The interest I feel, sir, is of a deeper and tenderer 
sort. It is an interest in your lovely daughter. 

Buggs. Mr. Cutlett ! 

Cutlett. And an interest, sir, that I am authorized to say is 
reciprocal on the part of the party of the second part, Maria 
Louisa Antoinette. 

Buggs. I cannot permit this to go further, sir. I am aston- 
ished. The incom[tatibility of such an union must strike 
even so inflituated an individual as yourself. 

Cutlett. If I proposed, sir, to unite myself to a lot of old 
upholstery — or even a stone front; if in marrying I sought 
a woman recognized in good society, and gave in return a 
battered body and a carriage, I could see the incompatibility 
as you term it. But I love the divine Maria for herself, and 
she reciprocates for her Cutlett. This means wedlock in our 
eyes, and makes wedlock bliss. 

Buggs. A noble sentiment young man, and one that re- 
flects credit on your noble heart. Uttered upon the floor of 
the House, from the stump, or at the Twin Mountains, it 
would call for and merit ap[)lause. But in this liall of the 
Buggs' house, I must say, altho' somewhat profane, that it 
is damned nonsense, that you believe in as much as I do. 

Cutlett. But, Mr. Buggs — 

Buggs. I must move the previous question, that cuts off 
debate. It is my intention to take my daughter with me 



13 

to Washington tin's winter, that she may aid and comfort me 
in ray arduous public duties. 

CuTLETT. So you move the previous question ? 

BuGGS. I do. 

CuTLETT. And this hrinnja up the main question. You 
refuse your consent to our loving union. 

BuGGS. Most conclusively, emphatically and positively I 
do. 

CuTLETT. Then, Hon. Montezuma Buggs, M. C, proprietor 
of the Buggs House, I must beg of you to procure S()me other 
competent person to take my place in this establisliment. I 
cannot consent to remain with an infatuated individual who 
cannot see my merits as a son-in-law, while eulogizing him 
for the more difficult and responsible position of confidential 
clerk of a first clas!^ hotel. As Shakespeare beautifully ex- 
presses : You can go, and be damned. 

Buggs. Mr. Cutlett, I am surprised, sir ; I may say, sir, I 
am astonished at your conduct. 

Cutlett. Oh, don't be surprised ; it's not time; I'll sur- 
prise you ; lestrain your startled emotions until I give the 
word. 

Buggs. When I see you again, Mr. Cutlett, I hope you 
will be under better restraint. {Exit ) 

Cutlett. {Alone.) Pat is right, marry first, and concili- 
ate after. I must consult SUickpole. {Eater Stackpole.) Ah ! 
Colonel, I was but now thinking of you. 

Stackpole. To what convulsion of nature do I owe such 
consideration ? 

Cutlett. Colonel, T am not the man to go back on a friend ; 
I have a heart Colonel. 

Stackpole. Come, Tom^ cut that. You want something; 
what is it ? 

Cutlett. Stackf)ole, old friend, you [)ain me 

Stackpole. I tell yon, Tom, I am in no tem})er for your 
infernal sentiment. Now tell n\e in three words what do 
you want? 

Cutlett. In three words ; then, I want assistance. 

Stackpole. I know it. Well, for the items. 

Cutlett. Your'e in the lobby at Washington ? 

Stackpole. I am. 

Cutlett Does it pay ? 

Stackpole. To cheek, backed with brain, yes. 

Cutlett. 1 have the capital. Now, Colonel, I find I must 



14 

throw np this pleasing puisuit of hotel torture, and I contem- 
plate joining you in the lobby. 

Stackpole. Tom, your'e in a sciape — a woman. 

CuTLETT. Only another name for a scrape, Colonel. Now 
you've given tne your confidence I'll give you mine. I and 
Miss Buggs elope to-night. 

Stackpole All right. 

CuTLETT. We take the midnight train for Washingt(jn. 

Stackpole. Good train. 

CuTLETT. At Washington I'll join you in the lobby and 
profits will accrue. Now for your case. I have seen that 
female ; she seems to be under the protection of the Christian 
statesman. 

Stackpole. That is singular. 

CuTLETT. She sent for old Buggs, and the three had a long 
private conversation. 

Stackpole. Yon don't say so. 

Cutlett. Yes ; I heard (dd B. say he would put her under 
the care of his old, trusted friend, Hon. Phineas Pilaster, 
who would take the midnight train for Washington. 

Stackpole. I can't understand the muddle. But let them 
go, so they don't bother me. Now for your case. 

Cutlett. All right. (Takes pencil and paper and to riles, 
reading^) " Deaiest, eyes of my soul, meet me in the hall at 
midnight to-night, and we will fly to the" — where the 
devil shall I say we'll fly — oh, yes, (luriting,) " to the isles of 
the ocean." 

Stackpole. That, geographically considered, is rather an 
indefinite locality. 

Cutlett. Oh! never mind, she'll understand. (Rings, enter 
Pat.) Here, Doolan, give this to Miss Buggs, if you can ; if 
you cannot, slip it under her door. 

Pat. All right, sur ; an' de ye's stand just here, sur ; 
you'll hear news directly. (Exit) 

Cutlett. Come, Colonel, let's to the bar and drink success 
to the lobby. (Exeunt.) 

(Enter Buggs, reading telegrams.) 

Buggs. (Alone.) I must say that I am uneasy ; they are 
pushing me closer than I thought. All turns oii the dele- 
gate from tlie 18th precinct. I must have that delegate or I 
am lost. Well, if my friends liave not elected him, I must 



15 

buy him — generally the cheaper process. {Noise outside.) 
What is the meaning of this row? 

{Enter Pat excitedly.) 

Pat. Where's Misther Cutlett? wliere, I say, is Misther 
Cutlett ? 

BuGGS. What do you want with him ? 

Pat. Divil a bit do I want him. It's the boys. He's 
elected honorable delegate from tlie 18th precinct. 

BuGGS. That is not possible. How did that happen ? I 
never heard Mr. Cutlett had any politics. 

Pat. Divil a politic or principle aither. The boys named 
me, ye say, an' I declined in favor of Misther Cutlett. Now, 
ye's jist spake him fair, for he has the casting vote. {Enter 
Cutlett.) Ah, here ye is, honorable delegate from the 18th 
precinct. Ye've got him now. He can't be Congressman 
widout ye'r vote. 

{Band of music and cries of Cutlett ! Cutlett! heard outside.) 

Cutlett. What do they want? 

Pat. They want yir thanks an' a trate. 

Cutlett. But I can't speak — hav'nt the remotest idea 
how. 

Pat. Never moind ; stipout on the balcony now an' make 
the motions, an' I'll make the spache. {Pushes him out. 
Cheers heard luhile Pat speaks. Cutlett gesticulates violently.) 

Pat. My fellow-citizens. It's the motions uv me iieart 
that's too dape for utterance on this tremenjious occa- 
shun. Ye've elected me diligate, and I thank ye. It's 
a grate honor, it is, in this dark hour of l)iril, whin 
the ship uv State is plungin' and laborin' in the stormy 
ocean, wid tlie rocks a rollin, the thunder a gleamin, 
an' the waves ready on all sides to dash the noble ves- 
sel all to smithereens. In this hour you called a Cutlett 
to the fore. Ye desire to know me principles. I'll tell ye. 
It is to study the w^ants uv the paj)le. Now, what do the paple 
want? They want the gooil liquor, {loud laughter and 
cheers,) and they shall have it ; an' it's me wish that ye go 
into the bar, ye can git me principles from a bottle at me 
cost, an' ye must imbibe those principles until ye are full. 
Can I say more? No, I can say no more. {Cheers, laugh- 
ter^ and music. Re-enter Cutlett.) 

BuGGS. Mr. Cutlett permit me to congratulate you on the 



16 

unexpected honor. Nothing could gratify me more than 
thus to have a friend placed where — 

CuTLETT. He could surprise you. Did I not tell you to 
restrain your emotional astonishment. 

BuGGs. The proposition you made me, my dear Cutlett, was 
so unexpected. 

Cutlett. Does it seem more familiar now? 

BuGQS. But my dear Cutlett you were acting under some 
sentimental impulse. Now we are practical men. Would 
not — say, three hundred dollars? 

Cutlett. No, Mr. Buggs. 

BuGGS. Five hundred ? 

Cutlett. Sir, I scorn the filthy lucre. 

BuGGS. Now, say a thousand ? 

Cutlett. Not worth one throb of a tender loving heart. 

BuGGS. (Aside.) I can purchase two delegates for that ; 
but to have my confidential clerk against me would be ruin- 
ous. He knows too much. (Aloud.) Say two thousand. 

Cutlett. Not ten— not twenty. Sell my country and my 
love. Never, sir. 

BuGGS. Those sentiments do honor to your head and heart. 
I never before understood your noble nature. You are the 
man of all men I would have selected for my only child. 
Take her, Cutlett, cherish her and you have the earnest 
prayers ot a loving father for your success and happiness. 
(Aside.) That secures me his vote, and he will be invaluable 
as a son-in-law in the lobby. (Aloud.) Come to my private 
office, n)y son, and we will discuss the campaign for to- 
morrow. (Exeunt.) 

Pat. (Alone.) That's what I call a loving ending to a bit 
av trouble. An' its all yer doing Patrick Doolen. An' its 
yerself that's got a moind above the trunks. I've the inten- 
tion to turn editor and wield the moighty engine, called the 
press, I have. Ocli ! Moses, but I'm tired. It's me watch, 
but I'll just turn out the gas an' take a bit slape, for its a 
dhirty noight and the wind ka[)es blowing uv it about. 

(Tarns off gas and fhroivs himself on luggage to sleep ; trom- 
bone represents his snores. Enter, dressed for traveling, from 
room No. 1, Hon. Mr. Peppercorn, hag in hand ; groups his 
way foriuard.) 

Peppercorn. I believe they intend to torture first and then 
murder me. I'll steal away. 



11 

(Enter from opposite sides Marie Antoinette and Blrs. Ralph 
Stackpole ; immediately after the Hun. Fhineas Pilaster. All 
group about them.) 

Marie Antoinette. Hist ! me love. 
Hon. Phineas. Hist ! 

(They both grapple Peppercorn.) 

Peppercorn. (Struggling.) Murder ! murder ! murder ! 

(Pat Doolan, starting up, captures the Hon. Phineas.) 

Pat. Police! police! police! 

(All scream and struggle. Enter Buggs, Outlett, Stackpole, 
Mrs. Doc Gussett, and Benjamin, lodgers^ servants ivith lights. 
Mrs. Stackpole screams and pulls down her veil.) 

BuGGS. What is the meaning of this unseemly disturbance? 
My daughter, what do you here at this hour? 

Cutlltt. Permit me to explain. When you refused your 
consent to (jur loving union I planned an elopement. Since 
you gave your honored consent, I have had no opportunity to 
explain lo my loved Marie. 

BuGGS. This grieves me. Such disregard of a fond parent's 
wishes. 1 could weep. 

Stackpole. Don't weep. If we delay for tears we shall lose 
the train for Washington. 

Cutlett. To which place we adjourn to weep at our leisure. 

[End of First Act.] 



Act Second. 



Scene, room in house of Mrs. Stackpole— Doors right and left— Closet left 
side— Two windows heavily draped, back— Kather loud in furniture. 
Mrs. Stackpole and Marie discovered. 

Marie. How very droll that Col. Stackpole should not 
know you, his own wife. 

Mrs. Stackpole. A blond wig and a little rouge, my child, 
makes a vast difference, and this is helped by the fact that 
he never did know me for what I am. For some years he 
3 



18 

left me to mope in an obscure village while he enjoyed life in 
Washington. Our union was unhappy from the start, and I 
should have been willing to live apart but for an effort he 
made at reconcilation, and in that effort I learned that he was 
a libertine and a lobbyist, leading a life here that disgraces 
the name he gave liis wife and child. Then I determined to 
act. 

Marie. What did you do? 

Mrs. Stackpole. The same train that carried ray husband to 
our village brought a disreputable woman, who, preceding 
him to our house, claimed my lord and master as her own. 
I refused him an interview, and the same train that took him 
away carried me also. I determined to see his life here and 
strive to reclaim him. I fell in, by accident, with your father 
and Senator Pilaster, and telling them that I had means, 
and a claim to prosecute received their aid and advice. 

Marie. And your husband never suspected ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. 'lie never cared enough to suspect. 

Marie. Why, what a romance. How came you to separate 
so soon after marrying? 

Mrs. Stackpole. 'It is a sad, shameful story, my dear ; one 
not fit to remember if I could only forget. He has forgot- 
ten ; and, at times,' I believe, I trouble myself too much in 
the way of a disguise. 

Marie. I don't know about that. I see him frequently 
staring at you as if, as if 

Mrs. Stackpole. As if he were puzzled. And so he is ; he 
finds a woman at last who, knowing him, is bis equal. 

Marie. And didi you bring money enough from home to 
pay for all these beautiful things ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Yes, my child; I must say for Ralph that 
he is generous. Ho has always maintained us handsomely, 
and in this last separation made over to me quite a fortune 
through my agent. In the expenditure I have been greatly 
aided by the advice of Senator Pilaster, the Christian states- 
man. 

Marie. How good of him. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Oh, very good. You have no idea, you 
innocent rosebud, how good he is. The old Turk ; I see 
that he even wants to include you in his goodness. Good ! 
It is a wonder to me, child, that the angels do not lift the 
Hon. Phineas out of the Senate right into Heaven with all 
his broad-cloth and brass buttons on him. 



19 

Marie. Your'e making fun now. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And you don't see where the laugh coraes 
in ? Wait awhile and you'll see it all. Did I not hear him 
whisper to you in the diplomatic gallery to-day about meeting 
him after the german to-night? 

Marie. Oh, yea, he wants to show me his great speech 
on closer Christian and commercial relations with the inte- 
rior of Africa, in which subsidized ships are to carry out 
christianized negroes and return laden with ivory, elephants, 
camels, mummies and cockatoos. I don't know what it all 
means, but he has repeated it so often I know it by heart. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Well, you'll find my dear, that it is not 
a matter so much of foreign as domestic relations. You are 
being used. I don't know how much your respected father 
observes, but there is a gentleman who answers to the name 
of Cutlett, your intended, who sees it all, and don't like it a 
bit. 

Marie. My intended. I'll tell you something ^ — now 
don't go and tell on me like a nasty creature — I hate him. 

Mrs. Stackpole. You don't say so ? 

Marie. Yes, I do. I was a little fool to listen to him . But 
at home, he was the only beau. I could' nt flirt with the 
colored barber, you see, and if he'd a run off with me I'd 
a married him. But 

Mrs. Stackpole. I know that but. A handsome, merry 
young fellow is that but ; wears lavender gloves, and loves 
you to madness. 

Marie. What a clever creature you are. Now don't tell, 
please, and I'll make a clean breast of it. Do you see that 
ring? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Quite perceptibly. It is your engagement 
ring ? 

Marie. Yes ; but that isn't all. I was walking with 
Edward 

Mrs. Stackpole. Edward ? come now. 

Marie. Don't interrupt me. I was walking with Edward 
in Lafayette Square when he looked at my ring and laugiied. 

Mrs. Stackpole Laughed? How impertinent. 

Marie. Yes, he did laugh at the ring Tom gave me, and 
said it was paste. My, but I was angry. 

Mrs. Stackpole. At Edward ? 

Marie. No ; at Tom. But I said it wasn't. Then we 
rode down toSempkin's in his coupe. My, but he has an ele- 



20 

gant coupe, and old Serapkin said it was paste, and then 
Henry gave seven hundred dollars for a real solitaire and 
throw the paste in the gutter. There now. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And when you marry Tom you'll have 
to return Edward his solitaire. - 

Marie. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Why, it is real 
elegant ; I won't do it. 

Mrs. Stackpole. What, keep Tom and the solitaire? 

Marie. No, I'll keep Ed. and the solitaire. I'll do that 
if I am torn in pieces by wild horses, see if I don't. 

SciP. Colonel Stackpole and Mr. Cutlett. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Show them up. Come, child, it is time 
to dress. Say to the gentlemen we will see them directly. 
{Exit Scip.) So you will be torn in pieces by wild horses, 
eh ? Come along. {Exeunt.) 

Enter Stackpole and Cutlett. 

Stackpole. Well, Tom, how do you like the lobby as far 
as you have got ? 

Cutlett. Well, I hav'nt seen the money yet. Can't get 
up the interest before I see the capital. 

Stackpole. Of course not, and if you could see it, it 
would'nt be worth seeing. If our business could be compre- 
hended by every fool at a glance it would not be worth fol- 
lowing. 

Cutlett. Thanks. 

Stackpole. You are no fool; I would'nt propose a part- 
nership if you were ; but you have to be initiated. Now for 
this Indian business. Everything in this world was created 
for some wise purpose ; Mr. Lo was created for the lobby. 

Cutlett. When was that discovery made ? 

Stackpole. The memory of man runneth not to the con- 
trary. The Indian ring is an antique. It dates back to the 
Declaration of Independence, and was covered with moss in 
the days of Jackson. It is nearer perfection, perhaf)s, than 
any work the devil ever consummated. Extending from the 
seat of government to the furthest frontier, it includes the 
highest and the lowest. Its work is done among savages, 
who can neither reason nor testify, with convicts escaping 
punishment, and criminals escaping cont^iction. It makes 
treaties only to break them, and the money appropriated, 
every dollar of which is stained with blood, it divides among 
its followers. If the Indians submit, profit doth accrue; if 



21 

they rebel and blindly make war, war calls for heavier con- 
tracts and heavier appropriations, and corresponding profits. 
It legislates for a million of savages, where the actual num- 
ber is not a hundred thousand. 

CuTLETT. The devil you say. 

Stackpole. Oh, that's nothing. Now we are pushing 
through a heavy appropriation for the Omahogs. Now, let 
me tell you there are no Omahogs. 

CuTLETT. No Omahogs. 

Stackpole. Not a one. There never was a Omahog, and 
the probability is there never will be one. 

CuTLETT. But I don't see how anything can be made out 
of that cheeky business, to say nothing of the danger. 

Stackpole. My dear fellow, give us the money ; we may not 
find the Omahogs, but we will find vouchers. 

CuTLETT. Well, if that is'nt the brassiest swindle I ever 
heard of, sell me for sausage meat. 

Stackpole. My dear fellow, you are new to this business. 
What do you think of a railroad company organized to build 
a road with the endorsement of its bonds by Government, 
and the donation of a domain in public lands, forming another 
company within itself, and contracting with that inner com- 
pany to construct tlie road and getting itself returned to Con- 
gress to so shape legislation as to shut out investigation and 
allow the honorable members to cart off eighty millions of dol- 
lars ; or of a Land Office ring that gobbles up all of the public 
doniain ; or of a Patent Office ring, that re'alizes on all the 
ingenuity of the land ; or of a Navy ring, or a War Depart- 
ment ring ? 

Cutlett. Hold on, old fellow ; the thing is getting so im- 
mense as to threaten insanity. 

Stackpole. Why, Tom, it is estimated by the more know- 
ing ones, that of every three dollars collected for this blessed 
paternal Government of ours, one only reaches the Treasury. 
Count the yearly revenue and you may estimate the profits 
of those enterprizing gentlemen who collect and disburse the 
public funds. 

Cutlett. And Ralph, you have been one of the favored 
few, for these ten years — you ought to be a millionaire. 

Stackpole. I ought, and there's my grief— and therein 
lies the reason I have for initiating you. Tlie leaders take 
the lion's share, but the subordinates who devise the work 
and encounter the danger, are rewarded as if they were slaves. 



22 

Now I propose applying a remedy to this abuse. While our 
leaders are working Congress, we will work our leaders. 

CuTLETT. And how ? 

Stackpole. Ah ! there's the rub. Our nearest is this 
Christian Statesman, the Hon. Phinias Pilaster. To get a 
hold on that gentleman — to ring his nose, is no slight under- 
taking, T. C, my friend. I have studied him — I have gone 
through him with a dark lantern and a pair of India rubber 
boots. There is'nt an honest pulsation in his body — not a 
pore but sweats the rogue, and yet never a misstep — not an 
imprudence even. He has a cunning that amounts to genius. 

CuTLETT. Well, partner, what's the use wasting time on 
this piece of Senatoral adipose if the task is so hopeless. 

Stackpole. I don't say tliat. I. think I see an opening. 
This clever blonde, Mrs. Dora Jones, I believe has captured 
him — she certainly has a strong hold of some sort. 

CuTLETT. And it is for us noble conspirators to get a hold 
on her, eh ? 

Stackpole. Precisely. 

Cutlett. Well, that must be your work, I have my hands 
full with Marie Antionette. I never saw a girl so clianged. 
She is as full of flirt as a colt is of capers, and by jove, I find 
it rather fatiguing to keej) round her. 

Stackpole. Why waste your time on that sort of thing. 
Let her flirt out. She won't pay. 

Cutlett. I know that, but I have fooled around her until 
my aff'ections — 

Stackpole. Oh bother ! cut that ! 

Cutlett. Well Ralph, when we were alone in that beastly 
eating house, I did'nt care a continental for her, but some 
how or other, with her, surrounded here by all sorts of peo- 
ple — well, 1 want her. 

Stackpole. The old story. 

{Enter Mrs. Stackpole and Marie.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. Good morning to you, gentlemen — I be- 
lieve it is morning here until one dines. I hope we have not 
exhausted your patience in waiting. 

CoL. Stackpole. Waiting for angels is even more exhaust- 
ing than the same attention on common humanity, but we 
managed to survive. 

Marie. {To Cutlett^ tvho attempts io embrace her.) Now 
Tom, stop that — you'll muss my dress. 



23 

CUTLETT. The drapery of ray angel must not be disar- 
ranojed. (Aside.) Damn her dress. 

Marie. Is'nt it nice? 

CuTLETT. Rawther — I like it better than the one you wore 
at Madam Sardine's last night. 

Marie. Do you indeed ; and why, Tom ? 

CuTLETT. That was one fellows could muss with impunity, 
sixteen lads went whirling you through the waltz until 
the trail disappeared in tatters — oh ! I like a dress that can- 
not be touched without being mussed. 

Marie. Tom, you do make yourself so disagreeable, quar- 
reling with me, and grumbling at me, because I have admi- 
rers. I am sure you told me when I came, I must make 
myself fascinating, and get the Omahog appropriation 
votes. 

CuTLETT. Oh, yes, certainly ; and my bird of paradise was 
negotiating for the Omahogs night before last, at Mrs. Bar- 
low's, when she sat perched on the back stairs for an hour 
with that naval duck at her feet. And again, she had no 
thought but for the O's when she spent tlie morning in 
the diplomatic gallery listening to that Jackanapes Benson ; 
or the other day when she gave three hours to Corcoran's 
gallery looking at the Plague in Egypt, with that Ad. 
Tucker, and a catalogue upside down. 

Marie. Oh, hush. I never heard anything so ridiculous. 
Can I help it if gentlemen admire me, and I am not going 
to help it either. I am going to have a good time while I 
can. There, now, if you dont like it go and fall in love with 
another ; plenty of them, 

CuTLETT. No, 1 don't propose transfering stock. But I tell 
you what; I'll make myselt very disagreeable to some fellow 
one of these days, and send a bullet in search of brains that 
are not to be found, hang me if I don't. 

Marie. Oh, Tom, your swearing. You are a nasty rude 
man, and I don't love you any more. There now. 

Cutlett. Well, suppose you hand me over that ring, and 
we'll dissolve partnership. 

Marie. (Aside.) Good gracious, I can't do that. (Aloud.) 
No I won't, I'll sleep on it, and if to-morrow I hate you as I 
do now, I'll send it to you in a box. You are just perfectly 
hateful now. So you are. 

(Enter Scip.) 



24 
SciP. Mistah Edward Bascomb. {Exit Scip.) 
{Enter Bascomb.) 

Bascomb. The cream of the day to you, ladies. Ah, Cut- 
]ett, how d'ye ; you see, Miss Marie, I am punctual ; ready 
for the stroll you promised. 

Marie. Quite ready. Won't you accompany us, Tom? 

CUTLETT. No. 

Marie. Well, by-by ; see you at the German. 

(Exit on arm of Bascomb. Cutlett ivalks violently across the 
stage twice or three times, then jams his hat on his head and 
exits.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. Col. Stackpole, have I the honor of being 
the subject of your meditations ? For the last ten minutes 
you have been engaged gazing at me as if I were a rare work 
of art. 

Stackpole. {Aside.) And so you are. {Aloud.) I must con- 
fess to that rudeness. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And why ? 

Stackpole. You so strangely resemble some one in a dim 
past, I am getting to have faith in a former state of existence. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Indeed ? 

Stackpole. Byjove, that *' indeed," did it. You resem- 
ble my wife. 

Mrs. Stackpole. {Coldly.) You have a wife? 

Stackpole. Yes, and no. But see how much you two are 
alike. {Takes locket from his breastpocket.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. And you carry her image next your heart. 
What beautiful affection ! 

Stackpole. Ah ! yes. One cannot altogether wipe out 
the past. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Even when one wishes? 

Stackpole. Even so. That affection made an epoch in my 
life. 

Mrs. Stackpole. That you put down, as a boy does a stick 
to see how far he can jump from it. 

Stackpole. Well, yes. Butis nottheresemblance striking? 
True^ she is a brunette, you are a blonde. She is a plain little 
country woman, you' are a graceful winning woman of the 
world. She has not your style, you see. 



n 



Mrs. Stackpole. Thanks. And this strange resemblance 
has brought me to your notice? 

Stackpole. Not at all. Quite the contrary, in fact I never 
caught the resemblance till now. And now it is only some- 
thing to wonder at. I am more concerned about the future 
than the past. I saw you, Mrs. Dora Jones, at first, to ad- 
mire your cleverness, I have remained long enough under the 
influence of its charms to have a deeper feeling. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Col. Stackpole must put a check upon 
such wandering and wicked feelings. 

Stackpole. May I not love you? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Certainly you may, that I cannot help, 
but the expression of that love is an offense so long as you 
have a wife, as you say, entitled to your affections. 

Stackpole. That is true in part and false in part. I have 
a wife and 3''et I have no wife. 

Mrs. Stackpole. How can that be? 

Stackpole. It is a strange but not a pleasant story. I had 
returned from the war in love with a girl I never saw. I 
had solicited a correspondence through the press, as soldiers 
were wont to do. In response came a letter evidently from 
a school girl. I answered and she wrote, and so we con- 
tinued until the war ended, and in the grand review of Slier- 
man's army in Washington, wlio should meet me at the 
Capitol but my little correspondent. She had run away from 
school in Pennsylvania. She was young, fresh, pretty and 
clever. What followed was not well to do nor is it good to 
tell. We were young and she was romantic. I returned 
with her to my native town as the wife slie should have heen. 
But my little love had a temper. God knows I intended to 
make it all right, but while I hesitated her uncle and guardian 
appeared — appealed to the law with her consent. Now the law 
ofPennsylvania gives the gay Lothario a choice between matri- 
mony and the penitentiary. I chose the first. We were 
married and seperated forever on the same day. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Why seperate? 

Stackpole. She had shamed me in my native place. I was 
ruined in the estimation of those who knew me from my birth. 
I fled, changed my name, sought a new career but the hlight 
went with me. 1 was returned to Congress only to be dis- 
covered. Shamed and abused I was driven from respectable 
society to that of disreputable people, from Congress into the 
3 



26 

lobby, and here I am, Mrs. Dora Jones, finding in you what 
I ought to have known in my youth. Had I met you — 

Mks. Stackpole. The result would have been the same. 
You blame your poor wile for faults that are in yourself. 
With all your courage as a soldier you are a coward as a 
man. You have stupidly tried to escape yourself. Instead 
of going to the front you have been caught skulking in the 
rear. The man who shows by his own actions that he has 
something to fear will soon find that others know he has 
enough to answer for; this stupid world takes us at our own 
estimate. 

Stackpole. Words of wisdom ; but all too late. I only 
know that you are my lost opportunity, you are the one I 
should have loved, and sought and cherished. With you my 
career might have been love. But the might have been is 
now my curse. I only know, Dora Jones, that I love you. 

Mrs. Stackpole {aside.) He loves me — poor Ralph — he 
loves me, after all. 

{Enter Scip, announcing Hon. Mr. Pepioercorn and Mr. Pat 
Doolan.) 

{Enter Mr. Pep. and Pat; Mr. P. sinks exhausted in a 
chair. ) 

Pat. The crame of the avening to yees, ladies ; the same 
to ye, Colonel. 

Stackpole. The same to you, Mr. Doolan ; and how do 
you find your new vocation ? 

Pat. It's to me taste, Colonel. We have chained the 
speed of the storm to the press, that moighty engine, and I 
ride the steed. It's not so healthy as baggage-smashing, but 
it's more intellectual and suited to me ganus. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Why, my dear Mr. Peppercorn, you seem 
exhausted. 

Pat. Exhausted, is it; he's nearly kilt, an' if it had'nt 
been for me powerful purtection I belave there' d been a va- 
cancy in his district. 

Stackpole. Why, what does it mean ? 

Peppercorn. It means, sir, that I am the wrong man in 
the wrong hole. I was not meant for a Congressman. I 
am, so to speak, an accident — a casualty. I was sent here 
without my knowledge or consent. My party got to quar- 
reling over two men, and I was unexpectedly taken up as a 



27 

cornpromise. I did'nt want it; I dou't want it now, and 
it 11 kill me yet. ' 

Stackpole. How so ? 

Peppercorn. I have to provide for all the loafers and beg- 
gars and rum-hole rats in my district. They call themselves 
my constituents. They are all here. I can't turn round 
that a dozen are not on me. All who don't want office want 
contracts. There are five hundred lo every place, and the 
same men have signed all the petitions, cuss 'em. When I 
go out I have to dodge down back alleys and run for my life. 
I got an old hack and had small-pox painted in big letters 
on the sides. Bless your soul, they alfsaid they'd had that 
disease, and rode with me until the Board of Health arrested 
us for spreading a deadly disorder. It is a deadly disorder, 
but won't spread ; it all sticks to me. 

Stackpole. But you certainly were safe on the floor ? 

Peppercorn. Not a bit of it. They card me out. I tried 
sending word I was not in my seat, and took refuge in the 
barber-shop. They watched me from the gallery, and wrote 
home to my papers that I was drunk and in the barber-shop 
all the time, and I am called there the chairman of the Com- 
mittee on Barber-shop. 

Stackpole. Why, lock yourself up in your room. 

Peppercorn. My friend, I have no room. They sleep on the 
floor, on the chairs, in my bed. They wear my shirts, use 
up my stationery, and drink my whisky. I can't get into a 
hole or corner to change my linen. I tried it this morning 
in a closet, and got my head through to find a female poking 
a petition at me, and they'r all coming. 

Stackpole. Who? 

Peppercorn. The women. The President appointed a 
woman postmistress, and they'r all coming in from my dis- 
trict. (Noise heard loithout.) Oh Lord ! there they are. 

{Enter Scip.) 

SciP. Dares quite a number of gentlemen here, say dey 
must see Mr. Peppercorn. 

Peppercorn. I can't see them ; say I'm not here. 

Scip. Dey say dey saw you come in, sah. 

Pat. Here, sir, come wid me ; get behind them curtains. 
(Hides him and then opens ivindoivs.) Now bid im come in. 

[Enters croiod ivith petitions , crying, ^' Where' s our mem- 
ber ?" '' Where's Mr Peppercorn r') 



28 

Pat. Ould Pippercorn tuk the alarm an' wint out at this 
windv, he did. And there's a noice slate on the roof. He 
slid down, an* yonder he goes. Git out, now, an' ye can 
catch him. 

Crowd. Where? where? {They tumble out at the window, 
save a fat man, whom Fat helps out.) 

Pat. There they go. Sure the hefty gintleman is split 
all to paces. But he's up an' together agin. Come out, 
sur ; yir precious life is good for tin minutes more. 

Peppercorn. Thanks, Patrick ; thanks, 

(Scipio enters.) 

SciPio. Hon. Mr. Buggs and Senator Pilaster. 

{Enter Buggs aud Pilaster.) 

Pilaster. May the blessings of the Lord rest on this house- 
hold. 

Pat. Amin. 

Buggs. Well, my daughter, how is your health to-dny, 
after the vain frivolities of the week? 

Marie. I am well enough. 

Pilaster {to Marie.) You remember, you are to hear my 
speech this evening. 

Marie Oh, I won't forget. {Aside.) I'm going to the 
german, if I die for it. 

Pilaster. I am sorry to learn, my dear Mr. Peppercorn, 
that you hesitate reporting in favor of our appropriation for 
those suffering children of the plains, the Oraahogs. 

Peppercorn. I don't hesitate at all. I won't report in 
favor of an appropriation for Indians who don't exist. 

Pilaster. Ah ! I see ; some of those ungodly men of the 
sword, from the War Department, have been slandering our 
missionary brethren. 

Peppercorn. Slander or no slander, I won't report until I 
have proof. Old Col. Plunkett, who has lived fifty years 
on the plains, says there is no such tribe. He says let 
them fetch on a delegation, so we can see them. So . say 
I. When your missionary psalm-singers fetch 'em on, I'll 
report, and not before. 

Stackpole. I am happy in being able to relieve the gentle- 
man. A delegation is now on its way, aud will probably 
reach here to-morrow or next day. 



29 

Pilaster. The Lord be praised. 

Pat. Amin. 

CvTLETT (to Stackpole).) What the devil do you mean. 

Stackpole (aside to Cutlett.) Oh, bother, we can have an 
Indian delegation here in two hours any time, if that is all 
the old fool wants. 

SciP announces Mr. and Mrs. Doctor Gussett. 

(Enter Mr. and Mrs. Doctor Gussett— the last in Bloomer 
costume.) 

Doctor G. Benjamin Gussett. 

Ben. Doctor. 

Doctor G. Hold my umbrella. Put those clogs outside 
the door, stupid. Evening to you all. Dropped in to dis- 
pose of a few tickets to my lecture on Bran as a Diet. 

Pilaster. You are doing good work in the cause of reform. 
Doctor. 

Doctor G. Should think I was. How many tickets do 
you want now? 

Pilaster. You can give me one. 

Doctor G. One! I like that— no I don't. What, a man 
with your progressive sympathies and grasp of intellect call 
for one ticket ! Benjamin I 

Ben. Doctor. 

Doctor G. Give Senator Pilaster twelve tickets. Five 
dollars, Senator. (Senator gives reluctantlij .) Any of this 
benighted frivolous crowd want to be enlightened on bran? 

Stackpole. I fear not, Doctor. 

Cutlett. Light diet for horses ; has a purgative effect 
when made into a mash. Your enlightened intellect, then, 
is opposed to the world, tlie flesh, and the devil. 

Doctor G. Young man, the devil is a buggabo, invented 
to frighten idiots such as you into good behavior. 

Cutlett Thanks. 

Doctor G. Flesh taken as food corrupts the bb.>od, clouds 
the brain, clogs the pores, and destroys the digestive process. 
It makes women imbeciles, and men brutes. If any man 
wants to die, let him eat turkey. 

Pat. Begorrah, but I want to die. 

Doctor G. If any man wants to be a butcher of his fellow 
men, let him eat beef. All of which is proven and illus- 
trated in my lecture on Bran as a Diet. Benjamin. 

Benjamin. Doctor. 



30 

Doctor G. Offer the tickets. 
{Benjamin offers the tickets.') 

Mrs. S. You must excuse me, Doctor, Marie and I have 
to retire and dress for the german. [Exeunt Mrs. S. and 
31arie.) 

Doctor Gr. German! paugh, what stupidity. 

Senator Pilaster. You never dance. Doctor ? 

Doctor G. Dance I yes, I do ; not as these puppets, pulled 
in at the waist like wasps, until the lungs and heart are 
jammed in on each other, and the stomach pushed out of 
place, with their arms turned up until they resemble kanga- 
roos, and they go churning the indigestible Kickeshaws. 
They eat and dance only with their legs. 

Stackpole. Oh ! Doctor, we blush, say limbs. 

Doctor G. No, I wont; 1 call tilings by their right names. 
Now, when I dance I dance all over. I expand the lungs, 
develop the muscles, stimulate the circulation, and open the 
pores. {Benjamin.) 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Doctor G. Give these idiots a specimen of my gymnastic- 
health-restoring dance. 

{Gymnastic dance.) 

{Cutlett laughs boisterously.) 

Doctor G. Young man, what are your cachinary organs 
stimulated by now ? 

Cutlett. At that remarkable exhibition of terpsicborean 
health restorer, by jove, you and Benjamin would make your 
fortune with the minstiels. 

Doctor G. Benjamin. 

Benjamin Doctor. 

Doctor G. You are the muscular side of our matrimonial 
alliance. Knock this idiot down, and then fetch me my clogs. 
{Exit.) 

Benjamin to Cutlett: Young man. 

Cutlett. Sir, to you. 

Benjamin. I am inclined to befriend you. I pity your igno- 
rance and deplore your imbecility. You don't know that 
superior being. 

Cutlett. I flatter myself I don't. 

Benjamin. Let me tell you, then, that that superior being 



31 

is dangerous. Where other women carry newspapers to im- 
prove the contour of the figure she carries revolvers. 8he, 
that superior person, swells on revolvers. 

Doctor. {Outside.) Benjamin. 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Doctor. Knock that fellow down, and fetch my clogs. 

Benjamin. Young man consider yourself knocked — beware. 
(Exit.) 

{Re-enter Mrs. Stackpole and Marie, cloaked for party.) 

Stackpole, {to Mrs. S.) May I have the honor, madam. 
Mrs. S. With pleasure. 
CuTLETT. And you ray love ? 
Marie. Yes; but I hate you. 

{Exeunt all save Doolan.) 

DooLAN. {Soliliquizing.) I had me orders from headquar- 
ters to watch this house. It's the sate of the lobby, and 
much fraquinted by that Christian statesman Phineas Pilas- 
ter, Sure an I say him here often enough. But he makes 
sacrit visits. Och that's the pint. I must see him in sacrate, 
an' hear what he says confidentially. Let me say, we have 
here a nate little closet where I can concale meself. {Opens 
closet.) Be me sowl but its made a purpose. There's a bit 
uv a windy I can drap me notes from, an' have Tim carry 
*em to the telegraph. Now come on, Mr. Pilaster, but I'm 
ready for yees. {Enter closet.) 

{Re-enter Marie and Ned Bascomb.) 

Ned. Didn't we slip them nicely? Now we'll have the 
evening all to ourselves. 

Marie. Didn't I get up an awful headache ? 

Ned. To ease my heartache. 

Marie. How lovely — now really, why do you love me? 

Ned. Because you are dutiful, beautiful, and an armful. 
{Embracing her. Enter Scipio.) 

SciPio. Hon. Mr. Pilaster's below. Miss, and says you 
expect him. 

Marie. Oh, I forgot. I did promise. 

SciPio. Are you at home, Miss? 

Marie. Oh, yes ; of course. {Exit servant.) 

Ned. I don't like this. D — n the Hon. Pilaster. 



32 

Marie. Now, Ned, you get behind this curtaiQ and you'll 
hear some fun. 

Ned. I don't like that sort of fun. 

Marie. Here, quick ; I hear him coming. (Puts him be- 
hind curtain. Enter Hon. Pilaster.) 

Pilaster. Ah, my little friend, this is very kind of you, 

Marie. Is it not? I just slipped away to keep my ap- 
pointment with you. Now for the speech. 

Pilaster. The speech I have for you beautiful maiden is 
not of a political sort. More, I may say, of a poetical kind — 
one of the lieart. 

Marie. Why, Mr. Pilaster, I believe you'r making love. 

Pilaster. Don't say making love, dearest giil, when it 
comes spontaneous from a throbbing heart. I do not ofFond 
you. {Putting his arm around her luaist.) 

Marie. No, indeed ; I like it. (Groan from Ned.) 

Pilaster. What's that ? 

Marie. That? Why that's rats or spirits — I don't rightly 
know which. When it knocks it's rats; when it groans it's 
spirits. Don't mind 'em ; go on. 

Pilaster. Dearest girl {drawing her to him — knocks and 

groans.) 

Pilaster. Bless my soul — let me look after the rats. 

Marie. No use wasting time that way. Let 'era knock 
and groan, I don't care. But you don't know how to make 
love. 

Pilaster. Do I not, lovelv creature? 

Marie. No, indeed. Now you must get on your knees 
and take my hand and kisa it and caress it like Bowser. 

Pilaster. Like BowstT ? 

Marie. Yes; that's ray dog. Now, get down. {He kneels ; 
he takes her hand and kisses it; she bursts in laughter.) 

Pilaster. Lovely maiden, why do you laugh? 

Marie. I can't help it ; you do look so funny. But I won't 
laugh — I'll be ever so serious — go on. 

{Enter Scip.) 

SciP. Hon. Mr. Peppercorn. 

Marie. Scipio, I'm offended with you. Whenever Mr. 
Pilaster is with nie you must knock at "the door, for Mr. 
Pilaster conies to pray with me. Now show Mr. Peppercorn 
up. 



33 

Pilaster. But what shall I do? I would not be seen here 
for the world. 

Marie. Hero, tret behind this curtain ; I'll soon make him 
go. Hurry; and if yon sneeze or cough I'll tell him it's 
rafs or s|)irits. (Hides him behind the other curtain. Enter 
Hon. Peppercorn.) 

Peppercorn. Oh, Miss Marie, I beg your pardon, hitt I'm 
pursued by my constituents — gridirons, grindstones and hair- 
pins are hard after me. You won't mind my locking the 
door ? 

Marie. No, indeed. [Locks door and sits on sofa.) 

Peppercorn. They will kill me. I can't stand this much 
longer. If I don't get some relief I'll run away — I will. 

(Loud knocking at the door.) 

CuTLETT, (outside.) Open the door, I say; open, or I'll 
break it down. 

Marie. Dear me, that's Tom. He's got a revolver and 
will shoot you — he's so jealous. 

Pepperc 'RN. Shoot me? Use fire arins? Let rae out of 
this. Let me fly. Hide me. Oh, what will Mrs. Pepper- 
corn say ? 

Marie. Lot me see, there's no place. Oh, yes, get under 
the sofa. There, quick. (Gets under, she runs, unlocks door 
and hurrying hack, sits, spreading her skirts so as to hide Pep- 
per corn. Knocking continues.) 

Marie. Why don't you come in, you goose, door's un- 
locked. 

(Enter Cutlett.) 

CuTLETT. What's this door locked for? What do you 
mean by sli()ping away with that Ned Bascomb for, eh? I 
tell you, Miss, I'm not going to stand this. Where is the 
fell<)W, I want to shoot him. (Draiuing revolver.) 

Marie. Now, Tom, sit down and I'll tell you all abo^it it. 
You see I had such a headache — 

Cutlett. Headache! Headache! I'll make that Bas- 
comb's headache.) (Curtains agitated.) What's the mat- 
ter with those curtains, are the windows up? I see, he 
got out at the witjdow. Well, I'll catch him yet. (Sits vio- 
lently on sofa and jumps up and doion.) My blood's up. I'm 
mad. I'll kill somebody. (Breaks sofa down.) 
5 



34 

Peppercorn. Murder ; murder. Help. Police. Help. 
{Crawls out and runs . Cutlefi chases him, snapping his re- 
volver. Peppercorn takes refuge behind curtain and comes 
out with Pilaster. Pistol explodes, both rush for next curtain 
and tumble out with Bascomb. Cutlett stands amazed. All 
the while 3Iarie screams, and Peppercorn and Pilaster cry 
murder. Enter Buggs, Stackpole, Mrs. Stackpole and ser- 
vants. ) 

Hon. Buggs. God bless my soul ; what's the meaning of 
this violence? 

Stackpole. What is it, Tom? 

Cutlett. I caught a seducer locked in this room with my 
affianced bride. 

Stackpole. It strikes me, Tom, you have flushed a covy. 

Pat. (Inside closet.) Oh ! murthur, murthur. Help. 
I'm kilt entirely. {Enters luith chain and stool dragging 
after. Dances violently about the stage.) I'm shnake bit. 
I'm shnake bit. (They seize him^ and take a steel trap from 
his elboiv.) 

Pat. Arrah, is that the baste. I thought I was schnake 
bit. 

Stackpole. You infernal Hibernian blunderbus, what 
were you doing in that closet ? 

Pat. I was there in the discharge of uv me duty, and 
thought for greater convanience I'd sate meself, when snap 
went something, a grablin me behint an I thought I was 
shnake bit. 

Pilaster. In the discharge of your duty. What duty ? 

Pat. Shure an aint I a reporter for that moighty en- 
gine, the press, an' aint it me duty to pape through cracks 
an' listen at kay holes. 

Pilaster. It is infamous. 

Pat. Don't ye's be after saying a word, ye ould seducin 
villain. But it's some qare things I've observed this night, 
an* it'll be divartion to you to rade it in the New York 
papers to-morrow mornin'. 

(All surrounding him.) Oh, Mr. Dolan, you would'nt? 

(Curtain.) 



35 
Act Third. 

Room in Col, Stackpole's house. — Back folding doors opened, exhibits din- 
ing room. — Both handsomely furnished. — Stackpole and Bascomb. 

Stackpole. General Ripson writes me that he is greatly 
discouraged by your manageraent, or, rather, lack of man- 
agement, in your business. He says you are too much given 
to the dissipations of Washington. 

Ned Bascomb. General Ripson is an aged ass. I am sent 
here and ordered to entertain, and now he complains of my 
entertainment. Let him come on, and see what he'll make 
of it. 

Stackpole. Yes, my boy, but entertaining is only means 
and not an end. 

Ned Bascomb. I know all that, and I'd like any one to 
show a better book. For twenty thousand dollars spent I 
have half a million made. 

Stackpole. Well, why don't you write him and give the 
details and results ? 

Ned Bascomb. Not such a fool ; black and white are bad 
partners in our trade. That firm has put many a good fel- 
low in the penitentiary. 

Stackpole. But you have a cypher. 

Ned Bascomb. And who knows who may hold the key. No, 
I thank you, I can drive just as near the State's prison as any 
man ; but then 1 drive. 

Stackpole. Well, well, its your ring, this post office busi- 
ness, and I don't propose meddling. 1 must say, you seem 
to be spending a great deal of time and money on Senator 
Pokeroot, the carpet bagger, who has nothing but his own 
vote to counteract the evil effects of his bad character. 

Ned Bascomb. He is about as damaged a product of the 
batn-yard as any left above ground, but he has control of 
the Post Office Department, I can tell you. He has three 
of the most important clerks in the Contract Bureau, any 
one of them would be hung under any other government but 
ours. Now, look here ; we meet at the Senator's house every 
Sunday, and all that is done in the Bureau during the week 
is duly reported. It is a regulation of the Department, that 
after the sealed bids, in accordance with advertisement, are 
put in, they are stamped and signed by the Assistant Post 
Master General, and deposited in the safe, only to be opened 



36 

on a certain day in the presence of the Post Master General 
I don't care to violate that regulation if I could. Poke stops* 
at nothing. We have the bids, and for every real bid, we 
put in two straw and one real competition bid with forged 
stamps and signatures. Now, you don't get a Senator of the 
United States every day willing to commit burglary, forgery 
and perjury, for ten thousand a year, eh ? 

Stackpolb. Well, no. And it pays. 

Ned Bascomb. Should think it did. Listen. {Takes out 
note book.) Route 1,049, running from Dead Cove to Devil's 
Gap, a howling wilderness, real cost a mustang and a half 
breed, fifty dollars a year, contract eigiit thousand. Route 
7,052, from Nr^odletozy, in Oregon, to anywhere, for no man 
has yet found Jacksonville, supposed to be at the other end. 
There isn't, and never will be, a human being on the route. 
The mail, an old hunter, goes out when he feels like it and 
comes back from the same motive, cost nothing but a new rifle 
and a few bottles of whisky ; contract price six thousand a year. 
Route 1161, from Shirttail Bend, on the railroad to Madison 
City, in Colorado, a whisky saloon of eighteen inhabitants, 
where the wolves run tiie mail in ahead of time, with one 
newspaper nobody can read, real cost one hundred and fifty 
dollars a year, contract price ten thousand. Route 1,380 — 

Stackpole. That will do, Ned. You seem to have pages of 
them. 

Ned Bascomb. Of course I have, and not a bad thing in any 
one of them. And yet old Ripson complains of my dissipa- 
tion. 

Stackpolb. It's a wonder to me, Ned, some of your compet- 
itors don't peach on you? 

Ned Bascomb. Not a bit. Most of them know that it's a 
sham, and they are in for a clear steal, like the rest of us. 
Then if a stupid, honest Congressman comes on to fight us we 
buy him out or bother him out. It costs like smoke to come a 
thousand miles or so to fight a ring. 

Stackpolb. The game is so barefaced it is a wonder some 
Congressman don't attack you and expose it all. 

Ned Bascomb. Stackpole, you know, as well as I do, that 
Congress is so busy, looking after its politics, it has no time 
to attend to the business of the Government. 

Stackpole. All right, my boy. You run your own 
machine. But, by the by, I wish you'd let Cutlett and his 
girl alone. 



37 

Ned Bascomb. I won't do it. I'm in love with that little 
one and I'm cromg to have her. What a fascinating little 
girl she IS, and as pretty as a painted wagon. 

Stackpole. But it's a dangerous game. You came near 
getting a bullet through you last night. 

Ned Bascomb. All the more delightful. Col. Stackpole, I 
was born in a stable and brought up in a bar room in a land 
where it was an accident for a man to die with his boots off. 
Ropes, revolvers and bowie knives made my diet. I am tired 
of this humdrum life. Let your Cutlett come on. If he wins 
he is welcome. 

Stackpole. All right. Hope you'll have our Omahog del- 
egation in good training. 

Ned Bascomb. First rate. I have our lot and some pretty 
little Treasury girls for squaws. But, mind, I am to be in- 
terf)reter, and 1 don't want any of your fellows to put in any 
chin music or they'll flummux the^affair. 

8tackpole. That is understood. I will see to it. Happily, 
Hon. Peppercorn is an innocent old lady. 

Ned Bascomb. I mustgo and get on the war paint. Good by. 

{Exit, as he does so CdUlett enters. They scoiol at each other.) 

Cutlett. I sometimes wonder how Providence came to set 
such beasts on end, I do. 

Stackpole. Better let the discovery end in the wonder. I 
don't know of any more troublesome beasts than those that 
go about on end. 

Cutlett. (Snapping his fingers.) That for them. 

Stackpole. So you would rather run after this little girl and 
fight her admiiers than attend to our business? 

Cutlett. I don't neglect any thing. Through the influence 
of the paternal Bngg old Pilaster lias made me cKrk to his 
committee, which means his private secretary. So I'll soon 
be as much inside as your Mrs. Rosa Jones ; a lady I don't 
believe in much, I can tell you. 

Stackpole Why not? 

Cutlett. Don't trust my fortune and sacred honor to a 
woman who wears a blond wig, and paints. 

Stackpole. If she paints, it is with the hand of an old 
master. 

Cutlett. Better say, an old mistress. 

Stackpole. See here, Tom, I can stand your coarse jokes 



38 

on most things, but if you ever refer to that lady again in 
that manner, you will collide on a closed hand. 

CuTLETT. Hello, hello, does the male feline vault in that 
direction? Beg your pardon, old fellow — no idea the tender 
susceptibilities of your manly heart were touched. But, let 
me, as your Damon, warn you not to be so blinded by love 
as not to see 

Stackpole. There, there, that will do on that subject. 

CuTLETT. All right — now to business. What is the mean- 
ing of this Chickarnung land affair? 

Stackpole. Clear enough to one inside. The Chickamungs 
are, or were, a tribe of Indians, possessed of the Catholic re- 
ligion, and a turn for agriculture. That is, they built huts, 
wore breeches with seats to them, went to church, and left 
their squaws to do their plowing. In time, their lands be- 
came valuable, and of course the Indians were troublesome. 
Congress carved out a new reservation beyond the Missis- 
sippi of very valuable laud — valuable now at least, for then 
the railroad, the telegraph, the steamboat, and the Christian 
Statesman were unknown. To satisfy these semi-civilized 
Indians, and their spiritual guides, Congress conveyed the 
land by law to the Indians in fee, to preserve, hold, occupy 
and enjoy, as the Ciiristian whiteman enjoys his real estate. 
The Indians again built huts, opened fieltls, raised stocks, 
and wore swallow-tailed coats, and stove-pipe hats. But 
modern civilization, railroads and Christian Statesmen 
crowded in again, and what does old Pilaster, conjmonly 
called Old Piety, do, but organize a company consisting of 
himself, to buy out these copper-tinted agriculturists, and get 
Congress to contiin) the [>urchase. The contract cost two 
barrels of whiskey and a pow-wow, the Congressional con- 
firmation, a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The next 
move was to sell out to the Intei'-Ocean Muskratand Tadpole 
National Excavation Ccnnpany, that gave us bonds that real- 
ized sixty cents to the dollar, leaving about two millions in 
our hands. 

CuTLETT. Our hands. 

Stackpole. To wit: Watkins Smith, old Piety's half 
brother, and vour humble servant. Now, I have concluded 
to hold on to this as our compensation for ten years hard 
work. 

CuTLETT. To which Old Piety will object. 

Stackpole. To which Old Piety will object and fight. He 



39 

will threaten us with an investigation. I doubt it. Mrs. 
Eosa Jones has some hold on him, and I want her co- 
operation. I had you made his private secretary, that you 
might possibly get access to his papers, 

CUTLETT. And my stipend for dipU)matic services so ren- 
dered is to be — 

Stackpole. Ten per cent, on the amount realized ; for Old 
Piety, when cornered, will comprdmise. 

CuTLETT. And you give me that in writing ? 

Stackpole. Not a bit of it. I'll do better— give you bonds 
to the amount. 

CuTLETT. Enough said. 

{Enter servant) 

Servant. Mrs. Jones and Miss Biiggs, desire to know if 
they can come up. 

Stackpole. Certainly. {Exit servant.) Now, Tom, take 
the little Bug": away. I want to have a confidential talk 
with Mrs. Jones. 

CuTLETT. Take her, certainly, if she will be taken— but 
she is so skittish of late, I can't count on anv thin":. 

{Enter BIrs. Stackpole and Marie.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. Excuse the intrusi<ui, gentlemen, but our 
little friend here has the absurd notion in her head of being 
a squaw this evening, and I want your influence to dissuade 
her. 

Marie. If I'd known you were going to tell, I would not 
.have come up. 

Cutlett. I see no objection to my dear intended indulging 
in a harmless masquerade if she wishes. 

Marie. Thank you, Tom. I say Tom, when we are mar- 
ried are you going to rush about and fire })istols at old gen- 
tlemen ? 

Cutlett. My soul's enchantress, when we are bound in 
the silken ciiains of matrimony, my bruised arms shall be 
hung up as monuments, and your hero will caper nimbly to 
the soft persuasions of a rankatank, which means piano. 

Marie. Well, I wanted to know, its such fun to see them 
run and hollow as they did last night. But come, let's go 
and look up a lovely dress for an Indian girl. Dora, you 
wait here, I won't be gone long. 



40 

CuTLETT. At your service, queen of my heart. 

Marie, Oh, Tom, when you are good, you are too good, 
but when you are bad you are the hatefulest creature in the 
world. {Exeunt Cuflett and 3Iarie.) 

Stackpole. Will Mrs. Jones honor my poor home by being 
seated ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. (Sits.) Not much of an lionor. You seem 
to be very comfortable here, Colonel. 

Stackpole As much so as a lone man can expect. 

Mrs. Stackpole. You feel the loss then, of the little wife 
and boy, at times? 

Stackpole. Of a wife. Not the wife. I have my ideal wife 
in my mind's eye, and sometimes I see her l)efore me as now 

Mrs. Stackpole. Thanks. I fear, however, the ideal when 
brought into daily use would prove a bore. 

Stackpole. {Droiving his chair nearer her.) I wouhl risk 
mv all on that. 

V 

Mrs. Stackpole. I fear the familiarity that breeds contempt 
destroys the ideal. And in women, who are born actors, do 
so much before marriage, that we are only real when we be- 
come wives. The real is fatal to the ideal. Colonel. 

Stackpole. To boys, yes, but men who have seen and felt 
the world find the beautiful in the real. When young, we 
see angels in women, a little experience gives us women in 
angels. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Colonel, you are not only a thoughtful 
man. but a man of feeling ; generous and impulsive to a 
fault. You have in these rooms, I am told, every morning 
a score of poor de[)endents. No one needy goes from you 
empty handed. Don't you think your charity would be of a 
better sort, did it begin at home? 

Stackpole. I do wot get your meaning. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Your story of yesterday, I find strangely 
interesting. It haunts me. I see all the time a little pale 
faced wife pining in her lonely house with a heart hungry 
for the loving sympathy denied her. She cannot leave the 
solitude of her unhappy houie without encountering the 
sneers of the world, and realizes that her boy is growing up 
without a father's love, and that it is his fate to leaim that 
he is the inheritor of a shame. Why not return and make 
two helpless beings happy, if you have no other reward than 
a sense of dutv accomplished. 

Stackpole. I dreamed all that once and did return to find 



41 

a welcome that had in it more temper than love. She would 
not grant me even an interview. No, ray friend, these are 
dreams that end in nio;ht-mares. I cannot leave this active 
life where I can at least forget, for one tliat would be misery 
to both of us. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I cannot believe that this sort of life is 
one likely to make a man happy. 

Stackpole. It makes money — not as much as one could 
wish, and here I want to consult you. I have these many 
years been furnishing the brain and labor for men who re- 
fuse to share the spoils. I want to correct this, and 1 ask 
your aid. 

Mks. Stackpole. My aid? 

Stackpole. Yes. I am not blind to the fact that you have 
a strange .influence over Senator Pilaster. Yon have a hold 
on him. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Me a hold on Senator Pilaster? 

Stackpole. One of the most capable and cautious men in 
}>ublic life. Bnt every man has a weak |)lace in his armor. 
I don't know [jrecisely what it is ; probably liis admiration of 
you. Now, if you would join. 

Mrs. St.ackpole (Aside.) Good heavens! this man seeks 
to use me. The mean, selfish wretch. {Aloud.) And if I join 
you ? 

Stackpole. We can conquer the world ; add your wit, 
giace, and beauty to my brain, and we shall move only to 
triumpli. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I enlist. Colonel, will you please ask 
if my carriage has leturned. 

Stackpole. Certainly. {Exit.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. {Alone.) And this is the man 1 fancied 
loved me. The cold, calculating miscreant. Selfish, heart- 
less man. Oh ! yes, I will aid. I will unbar the road to 
his ntter ruin, and have done with it. The day is past when 
I could be trampled on. 

{Enter Stackpole.) 

Stackpole. Your young friend has probably forgotten you. 
Ah ! here she is. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Thanks, Colonel. But I am not easily 
forgotten. 



42 

{Enter Cutlett, Mrs. Doctor Gussett, and Benjamin, Marie, 
and Bascomb.) 

Doctor Gussett. Be a free-born American girl, stud}^ the 
Constitution as amended, and don't you marry untii yon are 
ready, and then many the man of your choice. 

Marie. That's ray notion. It is'nt pa that's going to 
marry Tom, or my husband, whoever it may be ; it's me. 

Doctor. That's the doctrine. If the paternal author of 
your being wants you to marry a certain person you don't 
a|)prove of, tell the paternal author of your being to marry 
that person himself. 

Marie. I will ; I will. 

D ocTOR . B e n j a m i n . 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Doctor. Fetch me the Constitution]. 

Benjamin. Here, Doctor. 

Doctor. You see I go armed. It's amended for persons 
of African descent, but applicable to all humanity ; makes 
all equal under the law. Stand on the Constitution, giil, 
and bid despots beware. 

CuTLETT. Doctor, will it be necessary for her to stand in 
that extraordinary costume on the charter of our rights ? 

Doctor. No, sir, not as a requisite. We grant the largest 
liberty. Our principles go no further than the chimeloon. 

Cutlett. What's a chimeloon, Doctor? 

Doctor. What you have'ntgot, sir ; it's common sense. It 
is a garment and a principle. It gives warmth without 
obstructing the circulation and supports the clothes without 
destroying the vital organs. The chimeloon is our banner. 
Benjamin. 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Doctor Gusset. Fling out our banner. 

(Benjamin sJioivs chimeloon.) 

Marie. Doctor, if I marry as I please, do I have to wear 
that thing ? 

Doctor. Of course you do. 

Marie. Then I'll marry as pa wants me to. 

Doctor. And be a slave ? 

Marie. I'll be anything rather than a fright. 

Doctor. Am I fright? 

Cutlett. You are, you are. 



43 

Doctor. Benjamin ! 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Doctor. Knock that person down and follow me. [Exit.) 

Benjamin. Young man, I'm going to smite you in the 
countenance. 

CuTLETT. Well, smite. {Benjamin strikes out aiohivardly 
and misses, Cutlett hitting him in the stomach. Benjamin 
goes doion in a sitting position.) 

Doctor, {re-entering .) Benjamin ! 

Benjamin, {still sitting.) Doctor. 

Doctor. Have you knocked him down? 

Benjamin. No ; he knocked me down. 

Doctor, lie did, did he. How dare you strike a man 
smaller than you ! Take that, you sneak. {Knocks him over 
with her umbrella.) Benjamin ! 

J5bnjamin. Doctor. 

Doctor. Follow me. {Exeunt Doctor and Be^ijamin.) 

Cutlett. Ralph ! 

Stackpole, {laughing.) Well, Tom. 

Cutlett. Is my head on my shoulders ? 

Stackpole. I helieve it is. 

Cutlett. Well, give me my hat, then. {Getting up.) That 
female advocate lashes out like a mule. {Exit.) 

Marie. That's woman's rights. Well, they are funny. 
Come down, I must dress for the Indians. {Exeunt 31arie 
and Blrs Stackpole.) 

Enter Hon. Pilaster, B'ugg and Peppercorn. 

Hon. Pilaster, {speaking as he enters.) I am delighted, 
my dear Mr. Peppercorn, to hear your liberal and enlight- 
ened views respecting our helpless wards, the Indians of the 
West. You see, sir, the Indian Territory stretching across 
the path of progress, so to speak, can be entered only by the 
missionary and the cookingstove. Plain cooking and the 
Christian religion, Mr. Pe})percorn, must subdue these wild 
denizens of the plains and prairies. Cure the soul and 
strengthen the body. The Omaliogs, sir, are very far to the 
North, an inhospitable region ; but give our missionaries 
enough ap})ropriations to distribute Bibles and cookingstoves 
and we will soon have an isothermal line and a railroad, sir, 
that will carry Christian civilization to the furthest reaches 
of the Pacific coast. 



44 

Peppercorn. Now tell me, Pilaster, how the devil appro- 
priations by Congress are to establish an isothermal line? 

Pilaster. Nothing easier, sir. The climate along the Pa- 
cific coast is of a mikl type, originating in the influence of 
the Pacific ocean, that is supposed to have a current some- 
thing like our Gulf stream, tliat, sweeping northward along 
the coast, carries the tropical warmth as far to the North as 
Alaska, where sunflowers and cauliflowers grow to an enor- 
mous size, sir ; yes, sir. Now, the influences of this tropical 
heat is shut out from the water-shed of the Mississippi valley 
by the chain of Rocky mountains that make the backbone of 
our continent. Now, sir, keep your eye on me. A gap has 
been discovered in this chain of mountains tar to the North 
by Professor Haybug that if cleared of its forests and rocks 
would let a stream of warm air in over Duluth, sif, that 
would make linen dusters and palmleaf hats necessities. Give 
us appropriations, sir, and we establish an isothermal line, 
you see ? 

Peppercorn. And this is the meaning of the grand National 
Inter-ocean Gigantic Pea-shooter Company that is to pierce 
the Rocky mountains with huge tubes, along which balls 
filled with freight and mails are to be [)ropelled by com- 
pressed air — cold air from the lakes, hot air from the Pacific 
coast? 

Pilaster. Exactly so. But before anything can be done 
we must conciliate and Christianize that powerful tribe of 
Indians known as the Omahogs. {Enter delegation.) Ah ! 
here is our delegation. Welcome, red men. Welcome. 

(Indians range themselves in a half circle Squaws croiud 
together in a corner. Each chief utters a grunt, and seats 
himself on the floor.) 

Pilaster. Mr. Interpreter will you introduce the Hon. 
Mr. Peppercorn to our red brethren. 

{Ned Bascom pushes Peppercorn forward and lays his hand 
on his shoulder.) 

Ned Bascomb. Nau pau kaw nau tu chu. Ban pau kaw naw 
ta chu due. Naw pau kaw nau ta chee chum. (Indians 
grunt.) 

Pilaster. What next, Mr. Interpreter ? 

Ned Bascomb. Ingin smoke pipe — pipe of peace. 



45 

^ [Pipe produced, lit, and passed from chief to chief and then 
given to white men.) 

Peppercorn. Pangh ! the pipe of peace is about the nastiest 
tiling I ever tasted. 

1st Chief. {Rising.) Chee ko ko ni ko catch o mo dun go 
eh 11 a kn cum cum. (Sits.) 

Pilaster. Wliat does he say, Mr. Interpreter? 

Ned Bascomb. He Big-fire, say same as afore. He tired of 
wake. He want rations for he family, a wagon to pull 'era 
in, an he go to reservation. 

Pilaster. That is a friendly Indian. He must be encour- 
aged. 

2d Chief. {Rising.) Mae o chee chee mee o chung chung, 
ow ow ()\v, puff puff, hang. 

Ned Bascomb. He High-kick-hoss, say Ingin agent too 
much big thief, missionary too much squaw, he want gun, 
an' shoot 'em all, both. 

Pilaster. Ah ! that's a bad Indian, must be instructed. 

3d Chief. Do do bo um cum cum slow do dum dum ko ko 
one n ou n' ik o n an pilo stink uui lun stonk ko cum luch, 
puff, puff, bang. 

Ned Bascomb. Rearin Bull, he say he want much Bible, 
much cook-stove, much powder ou much ball, and he go 
shoot devil. 

Pilaster. That is a correct sentiment, indeed 

4th Chief. Pow wow, pow wow, no no go go, squaw squaw 
squaw, in go go no who-oop, {gives yell, the other Indians 
start and, seize their tomahoioks,) i si puff' poof poof boom. 

Ned Bascomb. Hole-in-the-Ground, hesay all Indian much 
squaw, much afraid. He big chief, shoot big father, little 
father, all, both. 

Pilaster. Ah, we'll conciliate that out of him before he 
leaves. 

5th Chief. {Takes Pilaster s hand.) How how how, big 
thief, much Bible, ki ko kum,much co<df, ke ko much agent, 
big steal, big preach, God dam, How how how. 

Pilaster. What does he say? 

Ned Bascomb. Oh, he big fool. Hetink he talk English. 
He talk fool. Now, Indian dance war dance. 
Pilaster. This is very interesting. 

{Indians execute absurd dance, squoius shaking gourds. 
After y all cry '^muck a tush " — " muck a tush.") 



46 

Peppercorn. What's that? 

Ned Bascomb. Muck a tush, means mush and whisky. In- 
dian want eat, want drink. 

Pilaster. Well, Peppercorn, I suppose you are satisfied. 

Peppercorn. Quite so. I will finish my report to-night, 
and offer it t(»-uiorrow. 

Pilaster. Well, let us go then. . Ct)lonel Stackpole has a 
little enteitainment for the delegation. {Exeunt Pilaster^ 
Peppercorn J and Buggs ) 

Ned Bascomb, {Io 5/h Chief.) Look liere, Bill Skimer, next 
time you put in your chin music on my i)rogramme I'll ham- 
string you, it I die on the s[)()t. 

Stackpole. Come, lady Indians and gentlemen Indians, 
the supper waits. [Belegafion go oat back — doors are closed.) 

{Enter 3Iarie, dressed as squatv.) 

Marie. I had to run away after all. Pa and Mrs. Jones 
both jumped on rue. I don't care, I promised Ned to be 
here, and here I am. 

(Enter Ned Bascomb, from folding-doors.) 

Ned Bascomb. Ah, my little Beam-in-the-sky, I was afraid 
you were goinjj^ to disappoint me. 

Marie. Not much. But I had hard work, I can tell you. 
Pa sent word to Mrs. Jones not to let me out, but I bribed 
old tScip and heie I am. How do I look ? 

Ned Bascomb Perfectly lovely. Now my charmer, now's 
the day and now's the hour. I liave ordered my driver to 
have our coU[)e, our coupe my love, at the corner, and when 
I say come, we 11 slip off, gft in, di'ive over the long bridge 
to night expiess at Alexandria. That will throw tliem off if 
we are missed, and to-morrow, in Richuxmd, the Rev. Mr. 
Puttyfoot will make us one — lia[)[)y for lire. 

Marie. Oh ! Ned, now that its got to be done I iim soafraid. 

Ned Bascomb. Don't fear. I love you. You are the — 

Marie. Ned? 

Ned Basc->mb. My love. 

Marie. When we are married will you take me to Europe? 

Ned Bascomb. At once. 

Marie. Let me buy lots of things in Paris? 

Ned Bascomb. Buy out Worth. 

Marie. And have it all in the papers? 



47 

Ned Bascomb. Columns of it. 

Marie. Ned, I'm yours. 

Ned Bascomb. Now, diaimer, remain in this next room 
until we conie out and j^^et to dancincr, then j..in us and you 
wi I not be observed . {Leads her off, and then returns through 
Jotding -doors to party.) 

{Re-enter Senator Pitaster and Hon. Bugg.) 

Pilaster. Then, I thiuk we have disposed of that Indian 
aiiair rather neatly. I was gratified on (doserviuj^Mhe favorable 
im|)ression made on Mr. Pe|)[)ercorn's mind by tlie delegation. 

Bugg. Yes, he now will make a strong report in ouT- lavor 
to the House, and nothing that I can observe will obstruct the 
passage of the bill. 

Pilaster. We must not, however, relaxoureiforts. Divine 
Providence favors the prudent. The Speaker must he seen 
so as to secure the floor at the right moment, and the Hon. 
Cockeye must move the previous question so as to cut off de- 
bate; and above all our lorces must be well in hand. {Enter 
Peppercorn.) God bless me, this is unfortunate ! 

Peppercorn. Ah ! Pilaster, this is lucky. 1 found when I 
got to my room that I needed a few statistical facts before 
concluding my report, and it is so fortunate I find you here. 
Let n)e read you mv report. 

1 ilaster. Certainly, my friend, come to my house, where 
we can be nnue retired, and I will listen with" pleasure. 

Peppercorn. Certainly, as soon as I put a few questions 
through the interpreter to the chief. 

Pilaster. I douht whether you can do much with them to 
night. They are eating and 1 fear drinking, as Indians will, 
to excess. {Uoars of laughter heard.) There, you bear. 

Peppercorn. Oh, I don't mind that. Here is the way I 
open : {reads) " The sim[)le Indians of their native wilds are 
the wards of our Govern ujent." Now that is a fact none 
can gainsay, certainly none truthfully. 

Pilaster. Certainly, my friend, certainly. {Aside.) Good 
Lord ! if they were to com(» in now. {Aloud.) Accompany 
me, my friend ; accom[)any me. 

Peppercorn. Directly; then I say, {reads,) when it is re- 
membered that our fathers found a vast and warlike popula- 
tion, holding with ignorant but patriotic tenacity to the soil 
of their birth, it is hard to realize in the present helpless and 
childlike savage 



48 

{Enter first chief drunk.) 

Chief. The pale face lurks about the red man's lod^e. 
Piankishaw will cicep like panther on hivS prey. Ah ! {to 
Peppercorn) red man's heart is fire. Ah ! have white man's 
scalp ; hang it to red man's lodge. 

{Flourishes tomahawk over Peppercorn^ loho shrinks and 
tries to get away. Pilaster gets bettueen.) 

Peppercorn. Why this is amazing ! But an hour since 
this Indian could not speak a word of English. 

Pilaster. Come, my friend, our Indian brethren have been 
drinking too freely. 

Peppercorn. Does drinking teach them Enji^lish ? 

1st Chief. Certainly, old cheeswax ; fetch him, 'in Sena- 
tor, fetch him in an' try it on. Loos'n liis tongue beautifully. 

{Enter &h chief, Pat Doolan, drunk.) 

Pat. Be me sowl, but here's Misther Peppercorn come to 
join our testivities. 

Peppercorn. An Iiish Indian — a miracle. 

Pat. Divil a ])it ; an' ve'r hurd tell uv the O'Rao^ins that 
come over wid the Phanacians an' discovered America be- 
fore Columbus was born. {To Pilaster, who puts himself bf- 
tween them.) Git away wid ye, Mr. Pilaster, when I'm dis- 
coursin wid the learned Theban. 

1st Chief to Mr. Bugg. Tell me, Bugg, tell me confiden- 
tially, you going to vote for the increased twenty per cetit. 
tor us clerks? Eh, tell me, now. 

Pat. As J was remarkin', the Phanacians an' the O'Ra- 
gins sail(*d in ships. Where the divil are ye, Mr. Pep[)er- 
corn. Me fi'iend, Senator Pilaster, come to me arms. 

{Doors back are throion cpen. Enter chief and squaws, 
drunk and singing.) 

We are the gentle Omahogs, come to see our father dear, 
And we won't go home 'till morning, 'till daylight doth ap- 
pear, 

'Till daylight doth appear, 

'Till daylight doth appear. 
Oh I we won't {wild yells) go home till morning, 

'Till daylight doth appear. 



49 

Pilaster. Gentlemen ! Gentlemen I Indians ! Mr. Pep- 
percorn ! 

2d Chief. Damn Peppercorn ! A dance ! a dance 1 
(Cries. Dance! dance!) 

[Hag -em-smug^ or can-can, is danced. Daring dance 3Iarie 
enters and exits loilh Ned Basconih. Gntlett observing this 
tries to drag out Mr. Bugg. Bugg is tripped up by Indian 
chief, tvJio pulls off" his wig. Cut'lett hurries oat Senator Pi- 
laster, and Beppercorn, attempting to follow, is treated in same 
wag as Bugg, and curtain fcdls on tableau.) 



Act Fourth. 



Scene.— Libiwry of Hon. Pilaster, U. S. S.— Two windows with heavy dra- 
pery, back. — Entrance between of glass doors, through which a tele- 
graph ticker, with boy, can be seen —Handsome library table capable of 
seating eight or ten people on one side. — On the other a stand with large 
box labelled in gilt letters, "Treasury of the Lord." — Portraits of cleri- 
cal gentlemen in white chokers, on the walls. — Very few books in cases. — 
Documents piled upon floor. — Placards of "Prepare for Judgment." — 
" God Bless our Home." — " Hell and Brimstone, the doom of Sinners," 
&c., suspended in frames. 

[Col., Mrs. Stachpole and Marie discovered.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. So my dear, you'r elopement proved a 
fiasco ? 

Marie. I don't know what you mean by fi-as-co, but it 
ended in a fizzle. Is that what you wanted to say? 

Mrs. IStackpole. {Laughing.) Well, yes, that is not a bad 
translation. Tell us, how did it happen ? 

Marie I am sure \ don't know. We ran away from that 
Indian thing, almost tumbling down stairs, Ned pushed me 
into liis couf)e and then got in himself after swearing at the 
driver ; and then we spun over the pavements till we hit 
Pennsylvania Avenne, and then it was hump-di-bump, I 
tell you. Sometimes Ned was on top and some times I was 
on top. I thought upon my soul we'd go through the roof 
of the carriage. We got to the depot at last. The train was 
about starting, and Ned pushed me into the car and was 
about following, when Pa came puffing in like a porpoise, fol- 
lowed by Tom. Ned turned and knocked Pa over beautifully. 
7 



50 

You ought to have seen him setting on the platform holding 
his stomach. I did laugh. 

Mrs. Stackpole. ^' And further proceedings interested liim 
no more." 

Marie. Then Ned went to putting bay windows all over 
Tom. Oh 1 you ought to see Ned box. It is just lovely to 
see him strike out from the shoulder, and he was a punching 
Tom, when the nasty police interfered and captured both of 
them. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And what did vou do? 

Marie. Do? What could 1 do — I went out and pulled up 
pa, and we hobbled into Ned's coupe. We had a thousand 
boys about us, shouting " here Miss Indian, here's your car- 
riage! " "Shine em up old duffer," and other things. Poor 
pa, he put. a hot brick to the small of his back and plasters 
all over him. He says his system has received a wrench he 
can never recover from. I don't care. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Now my child, an elopement calls for 
two things, somebody to elope with, and somebody to elope 
from. You have the first, but for the last, I know your 
father will consent to your marrying any one ^ou prefer. 

Marie. What of that. Do you think I am going to have 
a hum-drum common wedding, with nothing in the papers; 
but '•' no cards" no indeed. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Well, you have made a pretty good start in 
that direction. Here is the morning paper (reads) "Terrific 
combat between two Omahog chiefs for possession of an In- 
dian maiden. Last night as the ten p. m. train was about 
to leave the depot, an Indian chief rushed in, followed by 
another, who was accompanied by an elderly man, probably 
the Indian agent or interpreter. The Indian, with the mai- 
den hurried on, his pursuers and an excited colloquy endued, 
being in the Indian tongue, escaped the knowledge of our 
reporter. The talk was of short duration, however, for the 
two chiefs, drawing their scalping knives and tomahawks, 
went at each other in the wildest fury. Which would have 
proved the victor cannot be told, as the agent or interpreter 
intervening, he was mortally wounded in the stomacii, and 
slashed over the head in the most frightful manner. At this 
stage. Sergeant Bung of the i)olice force, aided by patrolmen 
Stick and Steblins, interfered at the risk of their lives and 
arresting the two chiefs, carried them to the lock up. We 
have six reporters out in search of the wounded agent, but 



51 



Xiln^Z: %U^J\r'''''r '''''' - obtaining 

our next issue "°' " ' ^ '"1""' "'''y ''^ «^P«clecl in 

Marie Stuijid lot. Can't you o-o and tpll n,»m i, •. 
was unci rrof rv,^ ^ *^ o «*'^'i ten tnecn now it 

MARiB^ Dear pa, how's your back ? ^ 

MaL of • ^^ "'"•''' ^^S^"" ^""' to kill ffle? 

ouKha'l^errint-theX't ^t ^'s'tL" 'u-J^"''' .^°'' 
and put a white handkerchief TyUrweept™^ 

ha^e^S;:,:;' °''' -^ ^^"^•''- '" -^ then^rwJuM^i 

Hon BuGGs. Well, when you elope a^ain oh with a 

pugihst.c young man, oh Lord, I won't foTlow'at all But 

1 eroh'tthTisTr"/ '7 ''''' T'^^ --' ^'' ; 1- l^^oo 

^vr' *^ ^ ^^^ domestic life 

^^.Marie What do I care for your consent. You don't marry 

Hon. Buggs. There's filial obedience for you. Dear me 
dear me how rriy back hurts me. I wish you'd maVr; some- 
body and have done with it. Confound it mar^ can'tTon 
support me without jogging. I have had in e last week 
no less t .an five fellows sent by you to ask my consent, and 
1 consented to each one. ' 

Marie. Of course you did, you'r so stupid. Why didn't 
you look at them like a flinty-hearted parent and sav no l^r 
my daughter is fitted for a coronet. ' ' ' 

Buggs. She's fitted for a lunatic asylum. Do take me in 
where I can he down Oh, oh ! be careful now. (Exeunt 
lion. Buggs and attendants.) ^ 

Enter Cutlett in Indian dress, eye blacked, and arm in sling. 
Stackpole. Here's the chief in his war paint 
Cutlett Most damnably demoralized. I sa;, has my old 
senatorial bumblebee been about this morning ? 

«TACKP0LE. He is out for his morning constitutional. Where 
nave you been ? 

Cutlett. In durance vile. I was locked up in a wooden 



62 

cage with three drunken tramps, and we had a general en- 
gagement all night. 

Marie. Arn't you ashamed of yourself. Do you think 
I'd marry you after your scandalous conduct of last night? 

CuTLETT. Small difference. Had it not heen for my scan- 
dalous conduct you'd have been married to another by this 
time. 

Marie I break the engagement right here. 

CuTLETT. Hand over the evidence of our troth. Give me 
my ring. 

Marie. Oh, Lord, can't do that, {to 3Irs. Stachpole.) If I 
break, I must give this ring. If I don't, I'll have to be en- 
gaged. 

Mrs. Stackpole. That is a dilemma. 

Marie. I won't give up the ring. Let Ned and Tom fight 
it out. I'll crown the victor, and I know who that will be. 
I'll be Queen of Beauty, and they'll be my knights. 

Stackpole. One will be Sir Knight of the Bridal Chamber, 
and the other the knight after, I suppose. 

Cutlett. Well, I must throw aside the warlike trappings 
of the wild prairies, get on my trotting harness, paint my 
eye, and go to work. (Exit.) 

[Enter 31rs. Doctor Gussett^ followed by Benjamin ivith peti- 
tion. Scipio Africanus Diggs ivith chimeloon y as banner, and 
procession of strong-minded women.] 

Mrs. Dr. Gussett. Halt. Benjamin. 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Mrs. Dr. Gussett. Inform Senator Pilaster that a delegation 
of female suffragists, also a colored citizen, wait on him to 
make preparation to present their petition to the Congress of 
the United States, asking — Benjamin. 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Mrs. Dr. Gussett. Give me your undivided attention, and 
don't stare at the female suffragists. 

Benjamin. All right. Doctor. 

Stackpole. 1 beg your pardon, Doctor, but the Senator is 
not at home. 

Doctor Gussett. Not at home, what does he mean by not 
being at home Let Phiueas Pilaster beware. If he weak- 
ens in the spinal vertebra his fate is sealed. His final bed 
is excavated. 



53 

Stackpole. Yon purpose petitioning Congress for an ex- 
tension of the suffrage. 

Mrs. Doctor Gussett. We do. We demand our rights. 
Women, the mothers of the nation, are, 1 say, classed with 
minors, aliens, Indians, idiots, and insane people. We have 
organized against tyranny. Behold our banner, the chime- 
loon. Our cry is dress, diet, and political rights for op- 
pressed women, 

Stackpole. Why, Mr. Diggs, do you join in this raid. 

DiOGS. Beg pardon, sah. 1 is [)rofeRSor now, sah. 

Stackpole. Oh, you are, are you! and when did that pro- 
motion come to you ? 

DiGGS. De odder day, sali — I was pin ted professor of moral 
philosophy and co-adjutor to de faculty oh de Howard Uni- 
versity, in de })iimitive elements. Where dey kiss de frater- 
nal Ijiss ebery mornin. 

Stackpole. You don't say so. Professor Diggs, T congrat- 
ulate the Howard University on so valuable an addition to its 
instructive department of moral philosophy and the primi- 
tive elements. 

Diggs. Thank you, sah. 

Mrs. Doc. Gussett to Marie. Young woman, have you 
tlirown off the yoke of male tyranny yet; have you selected 
the partner for your domestic duties? 

Marie. Much good selecting does when one is jumped on 
by every body, I'm sure. 

Mrs. Doctor Gussett. Young feiuale slave, come to my 
office to-day after we have presented our petition, and I'll 
diagnose your disorder. I'll prescribe for you. 

Marie. I believe I will — your not afraid. 

Mrs. Doctor Gussett. Afraid ! Benjamin. 

Benjamin. Doctor. 

Mrs. Doc. Gussett. Did you ever see me in any purtubation 
of mind. Did you ever see me afraid. 

Benjamin. I'll make affidavit. I'll swear that that supe- 
rior being never had partubration, or any other unmanly 
disorder. 

Mrs. Doc. Gussett. So come to me. I'll protect you. But 
we lose time. Go up to the Senate. Female suffiagans ! 
about face, march ! {Exit pr^ocession.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. Come, my dear, we are under engagement 
to lunch, you know, at Mrs. Bullins. 



54 

Col. Stackpole. One word please (to 3Irs. Stachpole.) You 
have seen the Senator about our business. 

Mrs. Stackpole. (Coldly.) I have. 

Col. Stackpole. And what said he? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Not much — was very indignant and 
threatens an investiojatinor committee. 

Col. Stackpole. He dare not. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Don't be so sure of that. The Senator 
acts very promptly when he has no choice but to act. (Going.) 

Col. STACKPOiiE. A moment, i)lea8e. Can I not see you 
again. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Certainly, I will return^ here if you wish. 

CoL. Stackpole. Do, please. 

(Hurries them out as Cutlett enters in ordinary dress.) 

Cutlett. Here I am, civilized again. 

Stackpole. What have you done with your black eye. 

Cutlett. The discolored orb of vision has received a few 
artistic touches from a master-hand. A little lady who tints 
into life the ruder picture of the sun, revived, replenished, 
and reinstated the private secretary to the original luster and 
splendor of his appearance. 

Stackpole. You have not seen Pilaster this morning? 

Cutlett. No ; but the youthful manager of his private 
lightning, vulgarly called tlie clicker, says he is in a heaven- 
ly humor, and has been all night telegraphing Watt Smith. 

Stackpole. What? 

Cutlett. I said Watt Smith, his half brother. 

Stackpole. Drop your stupid jokes. What was he tele- 
graphing ? 

Cutlett. There you get me. I tried to solve that problem, 
but the messages being in cypher, and the key being next 
that part of his senatorial anatomy called a heart, I failed, 

Stackpole. You must secure that key. 

Cutlett. As easily get the key of Wagner's music. But 
we will make the effort, Stackpole. 

Stackpole. Well ? 

Cutlett. The further I follow you in this tortuous route 
the less I like it. Stackpole, the peril overrides the pleasure 
of the profit. 

Stackpole. And you leave me ? 

Cutlett. Friend of my soul, not yet ; but I stand ready 
for a leap when I find the foundations giving way. The more 



55 
I see of the Christian Statesman the less I feel like -oine for 

John Wesley. Do you see that box ? 
Stackpole. Distinctly 

CWtt - Treasnr/of the Lonl !" Now, I thought at 
first that iur every ten thousand going to the treasury there 
would be h ty cents paid on account. No, indeed ; the Hon 
Phmeas Pilaster ,s the treasurer, and he covers in, unde," 
Chn.tian projects, h.s revenues in a way that would make 
c>atan commit suicide from very envv 

Stackpole. Well, if you find your "nerves disturbed, why 
leave. But you won't betray me ? 

CUTLETT. Gaze on me; see my hand upon my 

Stackpole Bother ; drop that cant. This Watt Smith en- 
gineered the bill through Congress and the trade out West 
i'llaster is urging his return since hearing <>f my refusal to 
account for the million and a half; and my w^Md'tor it Watt 
IS traveling East as rapidly as express trains can carry him 
lie has my best wishes for a speedy return. With Watt 
forced to testify and me to cross-examine, this threatened in- 
vestigation will be very brief. I must go now. Will return 
here to meet Mrs. Rosa Jones after old Christianity leaves for 
for the Senate. 

Cutlett. I shall await your coming. {Exit Slavkpole.) I 
don t half like this business. I have tried almost every line 
of life, save that of serving the 8tate in the comfortable but 
not picturesque costume of a convict. Haifa mind to go over 
to the enemy. 

{Enter Pilaster.) 

Pilaster. Good morning, Mr. Cutlett. Any one to see 
me? 

Cutlett. An assortment of mixed humanity. My pro- 
posed paternal by common law, Hon. Buggs, called. 
Pilaster. What did he want? 

Cutlett. He seemed most in want of a salve for his bruised 
cor[)us. 

Pilaster. Who else? 

Cutlett. Hon. Mr. Peppercorn. 

Pilaster. What does he want ? 

Cutlett. Balm for his wounded susceptibilities. He is 



56 

troubled in soul. Strange to sajr he cannot understand that 
Indian demonstration oMast night. 

Pilaster. Small wonder. What an outrage that was. 

CuTLETT. Most damnable — in its failure. 

Pilaster. Mr. Cutlett, you will oblige me by forbearing 
hei'eaitt-ir in my presence the use of [)rotatje language? 

Cutlett. Profanity shall not offend. Mr. Peppercorn says 
lie will not report in favor of the Omahog appropriation 
until the demonstration of last night is e.K[)lained to him. 

Pilaster. A most nnreas()nal)le and impracticable man. 
He would have a delegation, and now he is dissatisfied with 
it. Fortunately the committee has ordered the report and 
when the moment arrives for it to be given the House, I 
shall invite Mr. Peppercon to the Senate chamber to hear my 
speech on the unprotected wards of the nation. In his ab- 
sence, Mr. Snap[)s, a far abler man will make the report. 
By-the-bye, have you pre[)ared that extract trom my effort 
for the press ? 

Cutlett. It is here. (Giving it.) 

Pilaster. I think this will meet with public approbation. 
(Rends.) Good men and inspired writeis have taught that 
the Lord works through mysteiious ways, his wonders to 
perform, and we are, therefore, not to be surpi'ised, Mr. S[)ea- 
ker, that the road to christian civilization lies through the 
stomach of tlie savage. Teach the blanket Indian to eat and 
you give from a healthy stomacli. a brain capable of compre- 
hending the simple yet grave {)recepts of scriptural truths. 
Let our missionaries, Mr. President, sustained hy a paternal 
government go among the savages with the Bible in one 
hand and a cooking stove in the other, and the white-winged 
dove of peace will spread its snowy pinions over the troubled 
borders, where the crack of the murderous rifle will be 
changed to the hymns of thanksgiving, and the tomahawk 
transformed to the little hatcliet of truth." Rather good, 
that reference to the little hatchet? 

Cutlett. Beg your pardon, Senator. It may be the o[)aque 
condition of my mental process, hut the comparison, is so to 
speak, an egg of mystery and I cannot hatch it. 

Pilaster. Mr. Cutlett, I have observed in you, sir, adispo- 
tion to levity. It is o[)[)ressive, sir, and not to be endured 
in a clerk of a Senate committee. 

Cutlett. All right. Levity must die that the clerk may 
live. 



67 

Pilaster. This, with the other extract, yon mimt distrihute 
on newspaper row fo. the papers, a list of which you wH find 

nenc/w 1 ' a"'^ '^-""'^^ '^'' ^^^''^^''^^'^" '^' ^'^^ Total Ahsti- 
nence-by-law-Association arnve, treat the members to .nn^.r 

pop arnl say that 1 shall move the bill for the estal)lishment 

of uater fo,n.ta,ns,n the District navy yards, arsenalsandc)ther 
te tonal possessions of the Government. Should .the com- 

mi tee from the Manufacturers' Unioncall treat tochampa-ne 
and say that tlie enactment for the better protection oMmop 
skirts an( hair pins will be urged by me at an early day. 
Write to thatstupideditorof the Eagle of Freedom that if he 
persists in calling the Hon. and pious Secretary of the Interior 
an ichthyosaurus he cannot expect any more Government ad- 
vertising. Notify Jones, of the folding-room, that in any 
agricultural report of mine I want my photograph inserted 
onthe page having the engraved likeness of my blooded 
ram, Uharles Sumner. It is a good advertisement given me 
gratis — ° ^ 

CuTLETT. You or the ram ? 
Pilaster. Sir? 

CuTLETT. Beg pardon. Levity got the start. 
Pilaster. Don't offend again. The photographs will be 
sent him by Mr. Oscur.), for whom we have erected a studio 
on the top of the Senate Chamber. And, by the by, Mr 
Tinto Sneak, the historical painter, who is at work in the 
rooms of the agricultural committee, wants my coat, boots and 
pantaloons to put me in as the modern Cincinnatus, called 
from his plow to Government service. Answer and file ray 
letters, and if any thing unusual occurs telegraph me from 
the clicker in the other room. (Exit.) 

Cutlett, (alone.) Answer and file his letters ; make his lies 
wi^th his speeches, and {)repare his hills and make his reports. 
Well, the place is not a sinecure, but the pay is good. Let 
me see. Eighteen hundred from the committee with a right 
to all the soap, hair and clothes brushes, towels, spittoons 
plated pitcher and goblets of the room, over. Then Snorter 
pays me five hundred cash to get my boss to take up the bill 
for the relief of Soa[)y Sands, scalped by friendly Indians. 
One thousand from the Shorter ring to get a favorable report 
on the horizontal bar for the better ventilation of the Emma 
mine. Two thousand cash to steal the papers in that affair 
of Eddy-house shoals. Ought to have a bigger fee for that. 

8 



58 

Think I'll put in a contingent of five thousand to be paid 
after the theft is certified to. 

Enter Colonel and Mrs. Stackpole. 

Mrs. Stackpole. It is well I picked you up, then. (To Cut- 
lett.) Senator gone to the Senate? 

CuTLETT. He proceeded from here at 12:30 U[)on tlie most 
painful duty of his life; that is, to wit: the moving of a 
committee of investigation for his hosom friend, Colonel Ralph 
Stackpole. Duty, public duty, sir, you see. Now, if you 
will excuse me, 1 have a statesman to meet at Welcker's con- 
cerning a most im[)Ortant matter, to wit, a small compensa- 
tion for repeated services to your humble servant. Ta-ta. 
{Exit.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. You see, sir, the Senator does not hesitate 
to demand this investigation. 

Stackpole. He may demand, but he will never investigate. 

Mrs. Stackpole. But suppose he should ? 

Stackpole. I never entertain a remote supposition. When 
the evil comes there is always time if one keeps cool for 
preparation. Now, Pilaster is a timid man. He may bluster, 
but he will never act when confronted with actual danjxer. I 
hold that before him. 

Mrs. Stackpole. That I cannot comprehend You have 
no evidence connecting Senator Pilaster with this tratjsac- 
tion. He moved a bill that his committee unanimously sus- 
tained and Congress sanctioned. That is all. If a lobby 
was employed and members bribed he d^^es not appear in the 
transaction. You hold the proceeds, but you can only trace 
them to Watt Smith ; and if it were shown that he was 
treacherous to and dishcTnest with the poor Indians who etn- 
ployed him, such proof cannot hurt the Senator. Tliere is 
no law to punish a man for owning a corrupt halt-brother. 

Stackpole. There is considerable penalty, however, for a 
corrupt half brother owning a Senator. Now, I tell you that 
the agent of the Indians and the railroad company are all 
one and the same party. Give me Watt Smith on the wit- 
ness stand and I'll make evidence as rapidly as he can an- 
swer me. No, it is a game of bluff. He has telegraphed 
Watt to come on, precisely when he would not want him 
were he in earnest. But he is not. While we talk Watt is 
traveling hereby express to negotiate with me. A thousand 



59 

investigations is a good basis to build on. Oh, I know these 
men. They know no love nor hate ; they know money, 
money ; nothing but money. 

Mrs. Stackpole. But suppose Watt Smith were not to ap- 
pear, but, on the contrary, leave the country. 

Colonel Stackpole. Then I sliould know that Pilaster 
meant business, and I should prepare for the worst. [Enter 
telegraph hoy, excitedly.) Well, boy, what is it ? 

Boy. Important telegram, and I don't know wnether I 
should send it to the Senator or not. 

Colonel Stackpole. Let me see. {Reads.) Great God I 
what an event. {Hands it to Mrs. S.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. {Reads.) Frightful railroad accident on 
train from Omaha; broken axle; cars thrown down an em- 
bankment and destroyed ; among the killed your brother, 
Watt Smith. 

Colonel Stackpole. Did any event ever happen so inoppor- 
tunely? Oh ! telegraph it to the Senate at once. {Exit hoy.) 
Let the man know that he is free of the only being he ever 
had reason to fear. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And your case? 

Colonel Stackpole. Lost beyond redemption. I am at the 
mercy of as pittiless a man as ever God created or the devil 
owned. I am given my pleasing choice of suicide or the 
penitentiary. 

Mrs. Stackpole. It is not as bad as that? 

Colonel Stackpole. Not so bad ; it is so bad as Pilaster 
and I cannot conceive of anything worse. Can't you see 
death has removed one who, knowing his evil deeds, owned 
him. Disgrace is before the other, and these two out of the 
way, he can enjoy his ill-gotten gains in peace. 

Mrs. Stackpole. There remains another witness yet to ac- 
cuse and torture him. 

Col. Stackpole. And that is — 

Mrs. Stackpole. His evil conscience. 

Col. Stackpole. Bah ! I beg your pardon — but conscience is 
the sliame and mortification the rogue feels on being caught. 
Tliat is precisely what I feel at the present moment. Give 
Pilaster success, and his conscience will sleep the sleep of 
peace and innocence. 

Mrs. Stackpole. But punishment will come to him. 

CoL. Stackpole. Most assuredly. It is the law of our 
being sooner or later, retribution follows sin as day follows 



60 

night. I go down to-day, Pilaster to-morrow. This world 
is had enough, it were a hell, hut for the unseen agents 
who administer with even hand the law of God. Would 
you do me a favor. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Willingly. 

Col. Stackpole. There is an address. It will lead you to a 
little cottage hid under vines near an obscure village. In 
that you will find a poor woman, the mother of my child, 
who for some years has carried my poor name without re- 
proach. Say to her, as the last words from Ralph, her hus- 
band, that he begs her forgiveness for all wrong he did her. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Your last words. What mean you? 

CoL. Stackpole. Precisely what I say. One has to die 
upon some proposition, and this is as good as any other. I 
shall pay over this money to Pilaster, and go where a higher 
investigation awaits me, and so save my wife and child the 
misery of carrying the name of a felon. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I will do your bidding only on one con- 
dition, and that is, you will commit no rash act without at 
least a day's warning to me. 

CoL. Stackpole. Well, yes, I promise. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Excuse. {Goes to the fable and writes, then 
to the door and calls boy.) Telegraph that to the Capital. 

Col. Stackpole. What have you done? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Telegraphed Senator Pilaster that I must 
see him here, immediately. 

CoL. Stackpole. And he will obey your summons? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Promptly. 

CoL. Stackpole. (Aside.) She has him in excellent train- 
ing- 

Mrs. Stackpole. Now Ralph Stackpole, had you your 
life to live over, would you make it other than what it is ? 

CoL. Stackpole. I am in an excellent mood for pious re- 
solves. The devil was sick, the devil, a saint would be. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Do not jest, but answer me earnestly — 
Would you, if you could, re})ay this money to the Govern- 
ment, where it rightfully belongs, and return to your wife 
and child. 

CoL. Stackpole. Repay the money, yes. Return, no. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And why not ? 

Col. Slackpole. Too late. Since I am in the confes- 
sional let me make a clean breast of it. When I at first ap- 
proached you it was to use you. But before I had progressed 



61 

far I found myself carried away by feelings I could not 
control. Your voice, your face haunted rae. I could not 
drive you from me, and I tried hard enougli. The one want 
in my life grew into a love of you to a madness, I found the 
sympathy I needed, the home in another heart that a man 
must have to live. You came between rae and ray past. 1 
cannot, if I would, return. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Ralph Stackpole I am going to lift you 
clear of this peril. 

Col. Stackpole. You ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Yes. And when it is past I shall exact 
my re(U)m[)ense. A just recompense you cannot refuse? 

Col. Stackpole. I can deny you nothing. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Hush ! I hear his carriage. Slip into his 
picture gallery, so 3^ou can calm your agitated mind by 
studying art. 

Col. Stackpole. (Aside.) Poor woman, she thinks her 
pleading can move this reptile. Well good luck to vou. 
(Fxif.) 

(Ent 67^ Senator Pilaster.) 

Pilaster. You wish to see me? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Ah ! how pained 1 am to hear of your 
heavy loss. 

Pilaster. Poor brother. He died nobly in the service of 
his Lord and country. But in the midst of life we are in 
death. The Loid's will be done. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I telegraphed your coming on another 
account. You have moved your committee of investigation ? 

Pilaster. I have. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I have been considering of that. Do you 
not think it rather imprudent. 

Pilaster. Certainly. But prudent or not it is my duty. 
No man can say Phineas Pilaster ever came to a knowledge 
of coi'ruption that he did not endeavor to have it ex[)()sed. 
Yea, if it carried down my brother. But why do you ask ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. This man, Ral[)h Stackpole, is no common 
man, and lie will not be crushed without a des[)erate effort 
to save himself, and failing in that to carry down with him 
his enemy. 

Pilaster. My dear Mrs. Jones, he is helpless. He is 
caught in his own trap. He can carry under no one. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Not even your dead brother ? 



62 

Pilaster. Not even my dead brother; and if be can, 
ray brother's name must carry tlie shame of liis wrongdoing, 
if tliere be shame. 

Mrs. Stackpole. But tliat brother leaves a wife and child- 
ren. 

Pilaster. Verv well situated, indeed. His estate cannot 
be less than a million. 

Mrs. Stackpole. But is the shame nothing ? 

Pilaster. You are imagining evils that do not exist. But 
even if shame does follow, the consequences are not mine. 
What do you mean ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. I mean that when this investigation 
opens and Ralph Stackpole is driven to the wall, he will fight 
desperately, and if he cannot save himself, will strive to 
drag his enemy down with him. 

Pilaster. If by his enemy he means me, I laugh at him. 
Under Divine Providence, my steps have been in broad day- 
light along the paths of* righteousness. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Ofcourse,thatis well known to the world ; 
but there are some steps not so well known, that if uncovered 
would cause grave suspicion. Senator Pilaster. 

Pilaster. He can uncover nothing of the sort, for no snch 
tracks exist. 

Mrs. Stackpole. But were he to call me to the stand, as 
he threatens ? 

Pilaster. Bless my soul, what would he gain by that? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Not much to benefit himself, but much 
that would injure, if not ruin, you. 

Pilaster. 1 cannot comprehend. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Let me lielp your comprehension. Do yoii 
remember one afternoon, and n(>t long since, you joined me 
in the diplomatic gallery of the Senate ? 

Pilaster. I have enjoyed your society in that locality so 
often I cannot now recall any one instance. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Let me assist your memory. On this oc- 
casion a page, a bright-eyed boy, brought you your mail. 

Pilaster. Ah ! 1 recollect. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I thought you would ; you turned over 
your letters idly as you talked until you came to one, you 
opened hastily, and read rather impolitely, without asking 
my permission. 

Pilaster. Really I beg your pardon. 

Mrs. Stackpole. It was granted half au hour after. You 



63 

read the letter, and then with yonr pencil you did some 
figuring upon the margin. After you tore tlie letter into 
hits and dropped them on the floor. That was very impru- 
dent of you, my friend, for you left in that diplomatic gal- 
lery some tracks that were not in the paths of righteousness. 

Pilaster. How do you know that? 

Mrs. IStackpole. Easily enough. Thinking the letter of 
imi)ortance by your manner, and regretting your im[)rudence 
in thus leaving the fragments on that public floor, I gatlj- 
ered them U[), and subsequently, with great care, pasted the 
pieces together. Senator, you are not well. 

Pilaster. This room is very close. 

Mrs, Stackpole. You sliould not excite yourself. You 
have a tendency of blood to the brain — I beg pardon, the 
head. Let me give vou a ""lass of water. 

Pilaster But this letter was in cyplier. 

Mrs. Stackpole. All save the names. The cypher puzzled 
me. One day, however, I happened to take from your table 
an old dictionary, and I found in it soiuething beside the 
Englisli language. Senator, really you must compose your- 
self. What, a man who all his life has walked on the edge 
of a penitentiary wall — his path of righteousness — to be em- 
barrassed this way ! Why, I am amazed. 

Pilaster. I — I — believe I am notwell. But this dictioruirv? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Was the key to your cypher, liook, Senator. 
[Takes paper from her pocket.) Here aie the several amounts 
paid the lobby. Here is a list ot members receiving stock, 
and the value of each share. Here is the surplus — a neat 
sum of three millions — subject to your order, and here are 
the figures i)enciled by yourself in confirmation of this ac- 
count rendered you. Look at it. 

Pilaster, [fearing the paper.) I thank you, T thank you ! 
This letter was imprndent — not but what it could have been 
explained. But n<»w we destroy it finally. I am so much 
obliged to you. 

Mrs. Stackpole. My dear Iriend, this revelation has 
affected your brain — I beg pardon agair>, your head. You 
have destroyed my jjoor copy. 

PiLASiER. Bless my soul ! And tlie original — theoriginal 
is in the hands of Stack {)ole ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. No, Senator ; it is in my bosom. I carry 
your interest next my heart. 



64 

(Pilaster approaches her, and she moves hack, facing 
him, towards door of the picture gallery. He suddenly seizes 
her arm.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. Gently, Senator, gently. You hurt my 
arm, and being a woman, I might screan). Such cry would 
disturb Ralph Stack[)ole in his stud}^ of art in your gal- 
lery ; that consists <d a photograph album. See how you 
have bruised my pooi- fiesh. 

(Senator Pilaster. 'Valks the floor. PauscA.) 

Pilaster. You won't betray me. You won't attack so 
good a friend as I have been. Can this not be compro- 
mised ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Most readily. 

Pilaster. I have observed of late, that tiie gay life of the 
Capitol has worn on you. You are not well. Now, a trip 
to Europe. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Would be delightful. Dear, dear, Paris, 
the dream of my life; and sunny Italy, with its ruins, like 
shattered mountains. And dear, dear, Switzerland ; but 
then, the sea. I dread the sea ; it makes me sick. 

Pilaster. But you shall have the best state-rooms. You 
shall have a ship to yourself. A bundled thousand dollars 
would not be too much. 

Mrs. Stackpole. No, Senator, you can biibe officials, but 
you cannot bribe the sea. Its waves will toss and its wind 
blow without I'egard to prayers or money. 

Pilaster. Then a run to California? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Grand, lovely, wonderful ; land of griz- 
zly bears, and gold. How 1 long to see it. Do you know. 
Senator, you have touched a weakness of mine. I do so want 
to travel. I have never been from home. 

Pilaster. Tlien, California, and start immediately. 

Mrs. Stackpole No, my friend. You torget tliat Califor- 
nia is under the far-i*eaching and despotic jurisdiction of 
Congress. I should only be hurried back. 

Pilaster. Mrs. Rosa Jones, you are a wonderful wojnan. 
You are the most I'emarkable woman I ever met. I offer 
you myself. 1 am old, it is true, but 1 have position ; and 
1 am worth millions. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Thanks, Senator, but your estate is very 
heavily encumbered. 



65 

Pilaster, I don't owe a cent in the world. How encnra- 
Dcred ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. By you. Senator, do you know why 
a man ruarries under tliese circumstances? 

Pilaster. No, wliy ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. That he may heat his wife or hreak her 
heart. She us his, at common law, to do either, or hoth. 

Pilaster. But you said this could he compromised. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Certainly. Withdraw your charcres, and 
ask to be relieved from further consideration of the subject. 

Pilaster, {after a pause.) I cannot consent to a quarrel 
with such friends. I agree to your demands. You say Col. 
otackpole is here? 

Mrs. Stackpole. He is. {Opens door.) Colonel, your dear 
friend, the Senator asks for you. • 

Enter Stackpole. 

Pilaster. My dear Stackpole, at the urgent solicitation of 
this lady, who can scarcely ask anything I would not grant, 
1 have consented to withdraw the charges and ask to have 
the committee relieved ; and as for the money in your pos- 
session I leave you to settle that hetween your conscience and 
your God. 

Col Stackpole. A court. Senator, to which you cannot ap- 
peal, being without either. {Throivs himself sullenly upon a 
seat. ) 

Pilaster. I return to the Senate to carry out my word 
{Exit.) -^ 

Mrs. Stackpole. Have you no word of thanks, and are you 
ready to pay me for my services? 

Col. Stackpole, {coldly.) 1 thank vou, madam, for your 
kindness; audit this stolen money, {fiercely, ) all of it can 
repay you, it is yours. ' 

Mrs. Stackpole. Why, Ralph Stackpole, why do vou ad- 
dress me thus ? 

Col. Stackpole. Why? Why do you think yie blind— a 
ooi r' Can t I see : Do I not know to what I owe my re- 
lease ? Have I lived to this hour not to recognize the taint 
ot such influence? 

Mrs. Stackpole. That cruel and cunning man • he shot 
that arrow as he left the room. Ralph Stackpole's in error 
there. I owe my influence to this letter that came hy acci- 
dent to my keeping. That is my hold on the Senator. 



66 

Col. Stackpole. This, why what is this? 

Mrs. Stackpole. An account rendered by Watt Smith to 
his half-brother of moneys expended in bribinor throuj^h their 
bill. 

Col. Stackpole. Rosa Jones, you are a wonderful woman, 
and you have had this hold upon that man and never breathed 
a word. Ah, you make me happy again. Be mine. I will 
procure a divorce and we together will make our fight against 
the world. 

Mrs. Stackpole, No, Ralph Stackpole, that cannot be. A 
woman who could consent to do so cruel a deed would be un- 
worthy your love. Before tlie guilty i)air, niglit and day, 
haunting happiness from their home, would be the pale, 
wistful face of a discarded wife eating her heart out in a 
hungry demand for the sympathy a selfish woman had stolen 
from her. 

Col. Stackpole. My dear Rosa, your kind nature blinds 
your better judgment. This wife eats no heart in demand 
for sympathy from a man sho disgraced. She began her 
married life 

Mrs. Stackpole. Don't repeat that to me again — it makes 
me angry. A man himself at fault — a great strong man — to 
thus hold a poor girl of sixteen to account. I am asliamed 
of you. But enough of this. I said I should exact a recom- 
pense for my services. 

Col. Stackpole. My dear, dear Rosa, only name your 
terms. 

Mrs. Stackpole. They are, that you pay tliis money to the 
Government, and return to your wife and child. 

Col. Stackpole. The money can go ; but that other, as I 
said before, is impossible. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I accept no less. 

Col. Stackpole. You ask too much. But I understand it. 
You belong to another, and while I am immured in a loveless 
dreary home, I can think of you in the arms 

Mrs. Stackpole. Ralph Stackpole, have a care — go but a 
step further. 

Col. Stackpole. A step further. What can I say. I know 
I am nothing but a poor devil of a lobbyist, despised and 
hated; while he is rich — a Senator. Oh, go to him. Don't 
waste time on me, I am not worth it — you are all alike. My 
wife began where you end 

Mrs. Stackpole. {Excited.) You— you mean, selfish, cruel 



67 

man. You insult tliose who help and trample on those who 
love you. Ralph Stackpole, I hate you. I throw you off — 
go your own dark ways ; fight your own figlit. - See, see I 
I tear and trample on your one means of escape — (tears letter 
and stamps on it^ as she does so, enter Pilaster and Sergeant- 
at- Arms. The last approaches Stackpole.) 

Col. Stackpole. Well, what do you want? 

Sergeant-at-Arms. I heg pardon, Colonel, but I hold an 
order from the Senate for your arrest and imprisonment. 

Col. Stackpole. All right, I am at your service. 

{Turns at the door and looks fixedly for a second at Mrs. 
Stackpole. As he closes the door in his exit, she rushes to it.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. Oh Ralph ! Ralph ! my own, forgive me. 

{Sinks on the floor. Pilaster approaches, as if to help her. 
She starts up.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. What means this? 

Pilaster. The meaning of it lies upon the floor. {Point- 
ing to the torn letter.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. And you listened 

Pilaster. To every word. 

Mrs. Stackpole. You despicable wretch. 

Pilaster. Oh, don't be so excited. Hear me. I'm not so 
bad a man as you think. Now, I will yet carry out ray 
promise, if you will make good his charge. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And be your mistress? 

Pilaster. No, my wife. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Never. Marry you — you a thief, a swind- 
ler. You, who rob churches as a f)atriot, and your Govern- 
ment as a saint. You, the head of a gang that is destroying 
the crowning glory of a hundred years. You, who for your 
sordid greed rot out the very foundations of the Republic, 
and make self-government a shame and a mockery. Marry 
you — not to save Ralph Stackpole from death and me from 
the heart break and a life of misery. 

Pilaster. Oh, you defy me. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Defy you. I trample on you as I would 
on a snake. 

Pilaster. The snake may poison with its bite, and in a 
few days your lover will be a convict and you more reason- 
able. 



68 

Mrs. Stackpole. Senator Pilaster, I goto my lover, as you 
call him, to beg forgiveness of him on my knees, and then I 
take up his quarrel to fight it out. 

Pilaster. But you lost your power when you destroyed 
that letter. 

Mrs. kStackpole. You think so. Well, comfort yourself 
with the thought. Let me warn you, however, tluit although 
yon have blinded and conquered uie. you never encountered 
a woman. I say now, have a care, and see that it is Ralph, 
and not the Senator, who ends the convict. 

{^Curtain.) 



Act Fifth. 



Scene, same as in Act Fourth. Curtain discovers Cutlett arranging papers 
at table. 

{Enter Stackpole in charge of officer.) 

Stackpole. If you would permit me to walk a space and 
"^then go to Welcker's for a breakfast, I should be under great 
obligation to you ? 

Officer. 1 will consult the chairman of the committee. 
Colonel, and give you his response. 

Stackpole. Thanks. {Exit officer.) 

Cutlett. Well friend of my soul, tlie dark clouds of adver- 
sity have gathered over you deep enougli ot late? 

Stackpole. Yes, Tom, and you tnade your escape none too 
early. But can you tell me why I am brought liere? 

Cutlett. Don't you know that Old Christianity is too 
ill to attend a committee, so a sub-committee comes here to 
take his testimony. 

Stackpole. Is he really ill ? 

Cutlett. From the best observation I can make, he is very 
ill. The diagnosis ot his disorder indicates dissolution. 
The enemy has possession now of his foundations. Paralysis 
in the extremities. 
■ Stackpole. Is it possible? 

Cutlett. It is a i'act. His legs have gone up, ao to speak; 
but, as yet, his saintly old hea^d is as clear as a bell. 

Stackpole. And he may die ? 

CuTLLTT. We are frail creatures and all mortal, but a 



69 

fellow can't well kick the bucket when he has no leg to kick 
witlj. 

{Eniei" Mrs. Siackpole in traveling dress.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. {Nods fo Cudeit.) — To Stackpole. I am 
glad to find you at last. I hurried to the Capitol this 
morniijg to hear three different accounts of your whereabouts 
froin stupid officials. 

Colonel Stackpole. Thev fetch rae here that I mav have 
the pleasure of hearing the Hon. Phineas Pilaster perjure 
hin]self. He is not well enough to wait on the committee. 

Mrs. St.ckpole. And how haveyou been the lastseveu days? 

Colonel Stackpole. Well as a man could be, imprisoned 
in one of those gloomy vaults beneath the Capitol. I never 
before so appreciated sun light and pure air. Btvt where 
have you been all this time? I began to believe, like all the 
world, you had deserted the unfortunate. 

Mrs. Stackpole. The imprisonment must be severe to give 
rise to sucli suspicion. Will you favor us, Mr. Cutlett, with 
a little of your valuable absence? You know I am the 
Colonel's legal adviser. 

Cutlett. Oh ! certainly. {Aside.) Well, for polite cool- 
ness that woman beats Satan. I feel as it I had taken cold 
appioaching her. {Exit.) 

Stackpole. Where have you been these many dreary days? 

Mrs. Stackpole. In your service. The very day after your 
imprisonment I read in the morning journals a telegraphic 
report of the railroad accident in which Watt Smith lost his 
valuable lite. It seems that the car in which he sat was 
thrown down an embankment, and tliis pious brother found 
himself partially crushed between its broken timbers. He 
yet lived, and efforts were immediately taken to release him. 
But the car caught fire from the broken stove, and drove the 
men from their work. Finding that be could not escape 
alive, Watt Smith gave through the window a satchel that 
he beirsed might be sent to his brother Senator Pilaster. 
That satchel I determined should reach the Senator through 
my hands. It must be valuable to thus disturb the thoughts 
of a man dying of slow torture. I liastened to the express 
office 

Stackpole. And found the satchel? 

Mrs. Stackpole. No; only that such parcel had not been 
delivered from this office ; and through a reliable bribe and 



70 

the use of the telegraph I learned that it had not come into 
possession of" the company at all. 

Stackpole. And then ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Leaving my paid agent on guard here, I 
took the lightning express, and arrived at Omer, where the 
accident occurred, before all of the wreck had been cleared 
away. In an old stable I found a pileof unclaimed luggage, 
and among them, the lost satchel. 

Stackpole. And you secured the prize? 

Mrs. Stackpole. No, my friend, as I was about to seize it, 
an express agent took it from the pile. " Here is the cursed 
thing at last," he said. I committed the blunder, under the 
impulse of the moment, of offering him a thousand dollars 
for the parcel. The shrewd fellow said in reply, " if it is 
worth that to you it must be worth five times that to Senator 
Pilaster, and the Lord knows he is making row enough 
about it. I am sent by the company to find and deliver it to 
him. He says it contains papers of great importance." 

Stackpole. And you lost the prize ? 

Mrs Stackpole. But I never l(»st sight of it. I accompa- 
nied that agent night and day. We sat together, ate to- 
gether, and when he secured a berth in a Pullman, I en2:ao:ed 
the one opposite. 

Stackpole. To what result? 

Mrs Stackpole. I had a double object. I studied that 
agent and I studied the satchel. The one, I got at last, 
photographed on my brain ; and the other, its guardian I 
fascinated. He at last begged me to stop over with him at 
Chicago. 

Stackpole. And you consented. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I was only too glad to consent. I wanted 
a few hours — 

Stackpole. For rest. Poor girl — 

Mrs. Stackpole. No, for work. Instead of keeping my 
af)pointment with the infatuated agent, I hurried to an estab- 
lisliment and [)urchased a satchel as near the one we want, 
as I could find, and spent the night in working it into as 
near a resemblance as niy memory would permit. 

Stackpole. And you exchanged the false for tiie real ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. No, my iriend. The agent, indignant at 
what he called my heartless conduct, locked himself in the 
Express car after he lelt Chicago, and I could only travel oq 



11 

the same train to Washington. We all arrived this morn- 
ing. 

8TACKP0LE. And so we fail? 

Mrs. Stackpole. Not yet. The satchel has not been deliv- 
ered. I have had only time to warn my paid a^ent to watch 
the movements of his more virtuous brother and keep me ad- 
vised. Can you not trust Cutlett ? 

Stackpole. Trust Cutlett, he is as treacherous as hell and 
as selfish as the devil. I can trust you, and no other. 

Mrs. Stackpole. I will stand on guard in the street below 
with this false satchel. Any moment, up to tlie last mo- 
ment, is as good as a hundred years. (Exit.) 

Stackpole. What a superb woman— the clearest brain and 
the highest courage I ever encountered. 

{Enter officer.) 

Officer. You have permission, Colonel, to walk, for a few 
moments, before the committee meets. 

Stackpole. Thanks. I had no idea until now, that the 
fresh air was such a luxury. (Exit, luith' officer.) 

{Enter Pilaster, lualking ivith difficulty, supported bu tiuo 
canes , followed hy Cutlett.) 

Pilaster. Pull me a chair near the window, where I can 
get a breath of air before that sub-committee arrives. {Look- 
ing out.) Is not tliat Mrs. Rosa Jones on the street below? 
It is. How she clings to that fellow. Well, the peniten- 
tiary will soon shut him in, and her out. 

Cutlett, {pushing a cliair to him—aside.) Tlie devil on 
two sticks. Hope he is not going to dissolute immediately ; 
would interrui)t my business. 

Pilaster. Cutlett. 

Cutlett. Sir. 

Pilaster. I learn by telegrapli that a satchel containing 
some important papers sent me by my late brother reached 
Washington this morning. It ought 'to be here. What time 
does the express ordinarily deliver parcels in the morning? 

Cutlett. About this time; seldom later than ten. 

Pilaster. I wish you'd take a hack and hurry to the office 
and see if the satchel is yet there. 

Cutlett. Certainly, sir. {Aside.) A good thing his legs 



72 

have gone up, or I should next he called upon to glorify his 
pedal extremities by blacking his boots. {Exit.) 

Pilaster. (Solus.) I am very uneasy about that satchel. 
Of course it contains all the papers in this unfortunate land 
business. While my brother lived, t had one in whom I 
ci>uld, trust. If that satchel miscarries, 1 am h)st. It should 
be here ; it should be here. 

{Servant enters.) 

Servant. The express agent is below, sir, with a parcel 
he wishes to f)lace in your liands. 

Pilaster. Call him up. Call him up immediately. Thank 
Heaven, it is here. 

{Enter agent.) 

Agent. Morning, Senator. Here is a little bag I was told 
to find and give you. 

Pilaster. Very well ; give me your book. {Writes re- 
ceipt.) 

Agent. Good many j)eople after that little bag. Senator. 

Pilaster. {Taking ifi) Yes. 

Agent. Should think so ; was oliered a thousand dollars 
for that little bag. Didn't take it, for 1 thought it might be 
worth two thousand to you. 

Pilaster. I never reward a man for doing his duty. 

Agent. {Aside.) Cussed old skinflint, if ever I act on the 
square with a Congressman again may Satan seize 

{Servant enters, foUoived by Mrs. Stackpole.) 

Servant. Mrs. Rosa Jones. 

{Pilaster hastily puts the satchel in the loindow sill and pulls 
the curtain over it.) 

Agent TO Mrs. Stackpole. He's got it and did'nt give me 
a cent. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Teaches you that the service of the devil 
is one of love. Is it locked in his safe ? 

Agent. No, it is not — he has it. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Thanks. {Exit agent.) 

Pilaster. To what do 1 owe this early call from Mrs. Piosa 
Jones ? 

Mrs. Stackpole. To the fact that you are persecuting 



T3 

Ralpli Stackpole, Senator. You forget I promised yon a 
contest. 

Pilaster. It is narrowing to a close issue and a short 
time. It is not too late, liowever, for a compromise. I can 
yet arrest these proceedings if you will accept my terms. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Which means yourself Never. 

Pilaster. Very well, madame ; then justice must take her 
course, and the Lord protect the right. 

Mrs Stackpole. Amen. 

(Servant enters.) 

Servant. Hon. Montezuma Biiggs, Hon. John Peppercorn, 
Hon. Albert Rowe. 

{They enter, accompanied by pJionographic reporter.) 

Pilaster. Welcome, gentlemen. You find me something 
of an invalid, but well enougli to proceed. Be seated. Wheel 
me to the table. 

(Servant is about to do so, ivhen Cutlett enters and assists him. 
Mr. Biiggs sits at head of table, Pilaster, Peppercorn and Sen- 
ator Roive on his right. Phonographic reporter on his left. Enter 
officer loith Stackpole ivho sits on same side ivith reporter. 
Peppercorn rises uneasily, and walks around the table.) 

Stackpole. Mr. Peppercorn, you seem excited ! 

Peppercorn. Of course I am excited — any* man would be 
excited. Here I am, charged by the N. Y. Daily Libel, with 
having consorted with the lobby and connived at an appropri- 
ation for Indians, who never existed. It is infamous, sir, 
infamous. 

Stackpole. Would you be offended, if I gave you some in- 
formation on that subject, Mr. Peppercorn. All that enter- 
prising journal says concerning tfiose imaginary Indians, 
is true. They never existed, save in the brain of Senator 
Pilaster. 

Peppercorn. Sir ? 

Stackpole. Your most intimate friends and admirers have 
been Messrs. Stork, Bascomb, Cutlett and the Hon. Monte- 
zuma Buggs. 

Peppercorn. Yes, sir. 

Stackpole. They are leaders of the lobby. You have fre- 
quented the house of Mrs. Rosa Jones. 

Peppercorn. Certainly, sir. 
10 



74 

Stackpole. That has been, all winter, the headquarters of 
the lobby. 

Peppercorn. The Lord save me — can this be true? 

Stackpole. True as holy writ, sir. In a few days charges 
will be preferred against you, and Congress will expel its 
one innocent member, that the rogues may escape. 

Peppercorn. You alarm me, sir — you make me perspire. 
It cannot be. And are you an innocent man, and treated in 
this way ? 

Stackpole. No, Mr. Peppercorn, I am about the worst in 
the business. I am only euchered by a heavier hand. 

Peppercorn. And what would you advise me to do. 

Stackpole. Resign, my friend. Go home and await that 
better time, when the people of the United States shall have 
discovered that the business of the Government is of more 
importance than their private aftairs, and taking the election 
of Congressmen from the caucus and the corner grocery, 
have honest official agents here, instead of this delegated 
rascality. 

{During this dialogue hehveen Peppercorn and Stackpole^ 
Mrs. Stackpole goes about the stage, looking in the corners and 
other j)laces. When she attempts to scrutinize any place, Cut- 
letty who accompanies her, gets before her, boiuing politely.) 

Mr. Buggs. Well, gentlemen, I believe we are ready foi 
business. 

(^Peppercorn and Stackpole resume their seats.) 

Mrs. Stackpole. Before proceeding, I wish to make a 
remark. 

Mr. Howe. Is this lady a witness? 

Mrs. Stackpole. No, sir. I appear as counsel for Mr. 
Ralph Stackpole. 

Mr. Buggs.' Is this in order? 

Pilaster. I make no objection. We live in an age of pro- 
gress. Why should women not appear as advocates, if any 
one desires such representation. 

Mrs. Stackpole. (Placing false satchel on table.) There are 
certain papers in this satchel, gentlemen — 

Pilaster. Why, madam, what are you doing with my 
property. That satchel is mine. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Yours, Senator ? 



75 

Pilaster. Certainly, and I demand it of you. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Why, Senator, you amaze me/ How 
could I get possession of your satchel. 

Pilaster. I but this instant placed it on yonder window 
sill. Some of yonr conlederates have stolen it from the out- 
side. I appeal to the committee. See, it is to my address 
under seal of the express company. 

Mr. Buggs, {taking satchel luhich Mrs. S. gives reluctantly.) 
The Senator is correct, madam. This is certainly his prop- 
erty. (Handing satchel to Pilaster.) 

Pilaster. CutleU, lock this in the safe. 

Stackpole, {starting to his feet.) I protest. I insist upon an 
exliibit of the papers now being concealed. They are of the 
utmost importance to my case. 

( Cutlett during this protest exits loith false satchel. Pilaster 
ivatching him anxiously, and looks at door until he retiorns, and 
gives Pilaster key of safe. Mrs. S. ivallcs to tvindoiu, secures 
real satchel, and, returning, hands it to Stackpole.) 

Mr. Buggs. If you will designate the papers, the commit 
tee will give due weight to your demand. 

Mrs. Stackpole, {aside to Stackpole.) Break it open and 
examine the papers while I occupy the time. {To committee .) 
Senator Pilaster, gentlemen, in his former testimony, made 
certain statements, upon which, in behalf of my client, I 
wish now to ask a few questions. Is this in order? 

Mr. Buggs. Certainly, madam. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Senator, the late Watt Smith was yonr 
half brother, and confidential agent and adviser, was he 
not? 

Pilaster. In our private affairs he was. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Did he not act as such in this land busi- 
ness ? 

Pilaster. No, madam ; in all ray public business I know 
no brother. My course as a Senator is of public record. 

Mrs. Stackpole. You did not employ your half brother to 
distribute stock among members of Congress and bribes of 
money to the lobby for the purpose of procuring the passage 
of the law confirming the sale of the lands? 

Pilaster. The question is an insult. I decline answering. 

Mrs. Stackpole. And I appeal to the committee. 



76 

Peppercorn. {After brief consultation.) The corainittee de- 
cides that yon must answer, Senator. 

Pilaster. Then, most emphatically, I respond, no. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Under oath. 

Pilaster. I am sworn, and, calling God to witness, I say 
I never did. 

Mrs. Stackpole, [tahiny her papers from Stackpole.) Sena- 
tor, will you state to the committee in whose handwriting 
this is? {Shotving letter .) 

Pilaster. I, I — what is this? I don't comprehend. 

Mrs. Stackpole. An account rendered you by your half- 
brother, the late Watt Smith, and found among his effects. 

Pilaster. I denounce it as an infamous forgery ! Infa- 
mous, infamous, gentlemen ! 

Mrs. Stackpole. A forged imitation of your brother's 
writing is it? Senator Pilaster inform the committee 
whether this other letter is in your writing? [Handing 
another paj^er.) 

Pilaster. T, I cannot understand. 

Cutlett. {Aside.) My boss is gone up dead sure. He 
hems and drags. 

Pilaster. This is an unmeaning exhibit of figures. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Permit me. Senator, {taking papers.) 
These are in cypher, gentlemen, and to that cypher I hold 
here the key. It is an old dictionary, now out of print. The 
first figure indicates the page, the dash or cross indicates 
the column, and counting from the top, one finds the words. 
The proper names are given on the fly leaf in the end. By 
this you will find that, under direction of Senator Pilaster, 
three Senators and eight leading members of the House had 
stock given them. While a hundred and thirty thousand 
dollars were distributed in the lobby. 

Pilaster. Gentlemen, I am not well. These infamous 
charges are unexpected. I demand time. I, I — 

Senator Kowe. Help! the Senator is ill. 

Cutlett. {Dashing water in his face and fanning him with 
his coat tail.) Gone hook and line. Wake up, Boss, wake 
up ! The Philistines are on you. 

Pilaster, {feebly.) Help me to my room. {Cutlett and 
servant aid him. At the door he turns.) I go in prayer to 
the Lord for aid against the wicked machinations of my 
enemies. {Exit.) 

Stackpole. True hypocrite to the last. {Exit.) 



77 

Mrs. Stackpole. And now, gentlemen, my client Is at 
liberty. 

Senator Rowe. Not yet. It is our duty to report to the 
committee — a mere form, madam, but a form — and you 
forget that lie stands charged with an illegal detention of a 
million and a half of public moneys. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Which he holds subject to the order of 
the Secretary of the Treasury It was because he did 80 
these proceedings originated against him. 

Peppercorn. I'll take the responsibility. I'll be security 
for his appearance should he be needed. I am proud to stand 
b}'^ so honest a man. 

Senator Rowe. Not so honest as his advocate was able. 
Madam, I congratulate you. 

{Enter Mrs. Doctor Gusseft, Benjamin ^ Bascomb, Morie, 
Professor Diggs ond Pat Dolan.) 

Bascomb and Marie, {throwing themselves at the feet of the 
Hon. Montezuma Bug gs.) Your blessing, father. 

Mrs. Doctor Gussett. Yes, bless 'em. They'r both your 
children. Well married under the new dispensation. 

Professor Diggs. Yes, sah, I'se a witness. 

Pat Dolan. An' I sent a full report to me papers. Moighty 
interesting, I tell yee's. 

BuGGS. I do thank God that she is off mv hands with me 
alive. There, there, bless you. 

{Re-enter Cutlett.) 

Cutlett. The Christian statesman is in a bad way. I fear 
he is about to leave Congress for Heaven, or some other 
localitv. 

Stackpole. And will you follow, Tom? 

Cutlett. Not to any extent. I think I shall try a book 
agency — Beecher's Life of Christ, or Procter's patent light- 
ning rod. I am tired of the lobby. 

Marie to Stackpole. So your wife got you off. Why, 
that's splendid. 

Stackpole. My wife. What do you mean ? 

Marie. Why, you goose, don't you know Mrs. Rosa Jones 
is Mrs. Ralph Stackpole. Men are such fools. 

Stackpole to Mrs. Stackpole. My wife. Am I dream- 
ing ! 



^ 



78 

Mrs. Stackpole. Well, I do not know. I lack the style, 
the grace, the je ne suis qua, eh, Ralph. 

Stackpole. Darling, what can I do to win your forgive- 
ness. 

Mrs. Stackpole. Be your true self, and come home to those 
who love you. 

Stackpole. Then home it is. Let us go. 

Mrs. Stackpole. One moment. {To the houfie.) Ladies and 
gentlemen, the lobby lives by the House — so long as the 
House approves, Lite in the Lobby will be a success. 

[Curtain.] 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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